
Class. 
Book. 



I 



/ 






TALES OF MY LANDLORD 

SECOND SERIES. 



VOLS. III. AND IV. 



TALES OF MY LANDLORD 



COLLECTED AND ARRANGED 



JEDEDIAH CLEISHBOTHAM, c)j>^^^^^ 

OF 6A2n)£aCI 



SCHOOLMASTER AND PAHISH-CLEBK OF GAWDERCIXUGH, 



Hear, Land o' Cakes and brither Scots, 
Frae Maidenkirk to Jonny Groats', 
If there's a hole in a' your coats, 

I rede ye tent it, 
A chiel's amang you takin' notes. 

An' faith he'll prent it. 
^ , . \ i u^ Buhns. 



I J^ FOUR VOLUMES. 
VOT.S. III. ^ IV. 



PHILADELiHIA: 

PUBLISHED BY M. CAREY & SON, NO. 126, CHESNUT-STREET, 
1818. 



?R^ts 



Ahora bieriy dixo el Cura, tvaedme, senor huesped, aguesos librosy que 
los quiero ver. Que me place, respondio el, y entrandot en su aposentOy 
saco d^l una maletilla vleja cerrada con nna cadenilla, y abri^ndola, 
hallo en ella tres libros grandes y nnos papeles de muy buena letra es- 
critos de ?na7io. — Dos Quixote, Part I. Capitulo 32. 

It is mighty well, said the priest; pray, landlord, bring rae those books, 
for I have a mind to see them. With all my heart, answered the host ; 
and, going to his chamber, he brought out a little old cloke-bag, with a 
padlock and chain to it, and opening it, he took out three large volumes, 
and some manuscript papers written in a fine character. — Jarvis's 
Translation 



y^ 



THE 



HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN 



CHAPTER [. 



'lis the voice of the sluggard, I've heard him complain, 
" You have waked me too soon, I must slumber again ;'* • 
As the door on its hinges, so he on his bed. 
Turns his side, and his shoulders, and his heavy head. 

Dk Watt. 

The mansion-bouse of Dumbiedikes, to which we 
are now to introduce our readers, lay three or four 
miles — no matter for the exact topography — to the south- 
ward of St Leonard's. It had once borne the appear- 
ance of some little celebrity; for the " auld laird," 
whose humours and pranks were often mentioned in 
the ale-houses for about a mile round it, wore a sword, 
kept a good horse, and a brace of grey-hounds; brawl- 
ed, swore, and betted at cock-fights and horse-matches; 
followed Somerville of Drum's hawks, and the Lord 
Ross's hounds, and called himself point device a gentle- 
man. But the line had been veiled of its splendour in 
the present proprietor, who cared for no rustic amuse- 
ments, and was as saving, timid,|||nd retired, as his 
father had been at once grasping and selfishly extrava- 
gant, — daring, wild, and intrusive. 

VOL. II. A 



!3 Tales of My Landlord. 

» 
Dumbiedikes was what is called in Scotland a single 
house; that is, having only one room occupying its 
whole breadth, each of which single apartments was 
illuminated by six or eight cross lights, whose diminu- 
tive panes and heavy frames permitted scarce so much 
light to enter as shines through one well-constructed mo- 
dern window. This inartificial edifice, exactly such as a 
child would build with cards, having a steep roof flagged 
with coarse grey-stones instead of slates; a half-circu- 
lar turret, battlemented, or, to use the appropriate phrase, 
bartizan'd on the top, served as a case for a narrow 
turnpike-stair, by which an ascent was gained from 
storey to storey; and at the bottom of the said turret 
was a door studded with large-headed nails. There 
was no lobby at the bottom of the tower, and scarce a 
Janding-place opposite to the doors v^hich gave access to 
the apartments. One or two low and dilapidated out- 
houses, connected by a court-yard wall equally ruinous, 
surrounded th€ mansion. The court had been paved, 
but the flags being partly displaced, and partly renewed, 
a gallant crop of docks and thistles sprung up between 
them; and the small garden, which opened by a pos- 
tern through the wall, seemed not to be in a much 
more orderly condition. Over the low-arched gateway, 
which led into the yard, there was a carved stone, ex- 
hibiting some attempt at armorial bearings; and above 
the inner entrance hung, and had hung for many years, 
the mouldering hatchment, which announced that um- 
quhile Laurence Dumbie, of Dumbiedikes, had been 
gathered to his fathers in Newbattle kirk-yard The 
approach to this palace of pleasure was by a road 
formed by the rude fragments of stone gathered from 
the land, and it was surrounded by ploughed but uninclos- 
ed land. Upon a baulk, that is, an unpioughed ridge of 
land interposed among the corn, the Laird's trusty 
palfrey was tethered by the head, and picking a meal 
of grass. The whole argued neglect and discomfort; 
the consequence, however, of idleness and indifference, 
not of poverty. 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. S 

In this inner court, not without a sense of bashfulness 
anrl timidity, stood Jeanie Deans, at an early hour in a 
fine spring morning. She was no heroine of romance, 
and therefore looked with some curiosity and interest on 
the mansion-house and domains, of which, it might at 
that moment occur to her, a little encouragement, such 
as women of all ranks know by instinct how to apply, 
might have made her mistress. Moreover, she was no 
person of taste beyond her time, rank, and country, and 
certainly thought the house of Dumbiedikes, though in- 
ferior to Holyroodhouse, or the palace at Dalkeith, 
was still a stately structure in its way, and the land a 
*' very bonnie bit, if it were better seen to and done to.'' 
But Jeanie Deans was a plain, true-hearted, honest 
girl, who, while she acknowledged all the splendour 
of her old admirer's habitation and the value of his 
property, never for a moment harboured a thought of do- 
ing the Laird, Butler, or herself, the injustice, which 
many ladies of higher rank would not have hesitated 
to do to all three, on much less temptation. 

Her present errand being with the Laird, she looked 
round the offices to see if she could find any domes- 
tic to announce that she wished to see him. As all 
was silence, she ventured to open one door; — it was 
the old Laird's dog-kennel, now deserted, unless when 
occupied, as one or two tubs seemed to testify, as a 
washing-house. She tried another — it was the roofless 
shed where the hawks were once kept, as appeared from 
a perch or two not yet completely rotten, and a lure and 
jesses which were mouldering on the wall. A third door 
led to the coal-house, which was well stocked. To keep 
a very good fire, w^as one of the few points of domestic 
management in which Dumbiedikes was positively ac- 
tive; in all other matters of domestic economy he was 
completely passive, and at the mercy of his house-keep- 
er, the same buxom dame whom his father had long 
since bequeathed to his charge, and who, if fame did 
her no injustice, had feathered her Jiest pretty well at his 
expence. 



4 'Tales of My Landlord. 

Jeanie went on opening doors, like the second Calen- 
(ler wanting an eye, in the castle of the hundred oblig- 
ing damsels, until, like the said prince errant, she came 
to a stable. The Highland Pegasus, Rory Bean, to 
which belonged the single entire stall, was her old ac- 
quaintance, whom she had seen grazing on the baulk, as 
she failed not to recognize by the well-known ancient 
riding furniture and demi-pique saddle, which half hung 
on the walls, half trailed on the litter. Beyond the "tre- 
viss," which formed one side of the stall, stood a cow, 
who turned her head and lowed when Jeanie came into 
the stable, an appeal which her habitual occupations en- 
abled her perfectly to understand, and with which she 
could not refuse complying, by shaking down some fod- 
der to the animal, which had been neglected like most 
things else in the castle of the sluggard. 

While she was accommodating " the milky mother" 
with the food which she should have received two hours 
sooner, a slip-shod wench peeped into the stable, and 
perceiving that a stranger was employed in discharging 
the task which she, at length, and reluctantly, had quit- 
ted her slumbers to perform, ejaculated, " Eh, sirs! the 
Brownie! the Brownie!" and fled, yelling as if she had 
seen the devil. 

To explain her terror, it may be necessary to notice, 
that the old house of Dumbiedikes had, according to re- 
port, been long haunted by a Brownie, one of those fami- 
liar spirits, who were believed in ancient times to supply 
the deficiencies of the ordinary labourer — 

" Whirl the long mop, and ply the airy flail." 

Certes, the convenience of such a supernatural assistant 
could have been no where more sensibly felt, than in a 
family where the domestics were so little disposed to per- 
sonal activity; yet this serving maiden was so far from 
rejoicing in seeing a supposed aerial substitute discharg- 
ing a task which she should have long since performed 
herself, that she proceeded to raise the family by her 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. 5 

screams of horror, uttered as thick as if the Brownie had 
been flaying her. Jeanie, who had immediately resign- 
ed her temporary occupation, and followed the yelling^^ 
damsel into the court-yard, in order to undeceive and ap- 
pease her, was there met by Mrs Janet Balchristie, the 
favourite sultana of the last laird, as scandal went — the 
house-keeper of the present. The good-looking, buxom 
woman, betwixt forty and fifty, (for such we described 
her at the death of the last laird) was now a fat, red^ 
faced, old dame of seventy, or thereabouts, fond of her 
place, and jealous of her authority. Conscious that her 
place of administration did not rest on so sure a basis as 
in the time of the old proprietor, this considerate lady had 
introduced into the family the screamer aforesaid, who 
added good features and bright eyes to the powers of her 
lungs. She madfe no conquest of the Laird, however, 
who seemed to live as if there was not another woman in 
the world but Jeanie Deans, and to bear no very ardent or 
overbearing affection even to her. Mrs Janet Balchris- 
tie, notwithstanding, had her own uneasy thoughts upon 
the almost daily visits to Saint Leonard's Crags, and often 
when the Laird looked at her wistfully and paused, ac- 
cording to his custom before utterance, she expected him 
to say, "Jenny, I am gaun to change my condition;" but 
she was relieved by " Jenny, I am gaun to change my 
shoon." 

Still, however, Mrs Balchristie regarded Jeanie Deans 
with no small portion of malevolence, the customary 
feeling of such persons towards any one who they think 
has the means of doing them an injury. But she bad 
also a general aversion to any female, tolerably young, 
and decently well-looking, who shelved a wish to ap- 
proach the house of Dumbiedikes and the proprietor 
thereof. And as she had raised her mass of mortality 
out of bed two hours earlier than usual, to come to the 
rescue of her clamorous niece, she was in such extreme 
bad humour against all and sundry, that Saddletree would 
have pronounced, that she harboured inimicitiam contra 
omnes mortales. 

K 2 



6 Tales of My Landlord. 

"Whathede'il are ye?" said the fat dame to pooi 
Jeanie, whom she did not immediately recognize, " scoup- 
ing about a decent house at sic an iiour in the morn- 
ing?" 

" It was ane wanting to speak to the Laird," said 
Jeanie, who felt something of the intuitive terror which 
she had formerly entertained for this termagant, when 
she was occasionally at Dumbiedikes on business of her 
father's. 

" Ane? — And what sort of ane are ye? — hae ye nae 
name? — D"'ye think his honour has naething else to do 
than to speak wi' ilka idle tramper that comes about the 
town, and him in his bed yet, honest man?" 

" Dear Mrs Balchristie," replied Jeanie, in a sub- 
missive tone, " D'ye no mind me? — d'ye no mind Jeanie 
Deans?" 

"Jeanie Deans!!" said the termagant, in accents af- 
fecting the utmost astonishment; then taking two strides 
nearer to her, she peered into her face with a stare of 
curiosity, equally scornful and malignant — " I say Jeanie 
Deans, indeed — ^Jeanie Deevil, they had better hae ca'd 
ye! — A bonnie spot o' wark your tittie and you hae made 
out, murdering ae puir wean, and your light limmer of a 
sister's to be hanged for't, as weel she deserves! — And 
the like o' you to come to ony honest man's house, and 
want to be into a decent batchelor gentleman's room at 
this time in the morning, and him in his bed? — gae wa', 
gae wa'." 

Jeanie was struck mute with shame at the unfeeling 
brutality of this accusation, and could not even find 
words to justify herself from the vile construction put 
upon her visit, when Mrs Balchristie, seeing her advan- 
tage, continued in the same tone, " Come, come, bundle 
\ip your pipes, and tramp awa' wi' ye! — ye may be seek- 
ing a father to another wean for ony thing I ken. If it 
waurna that your father, auld David Deans, had been a 
tenant on our land, I would cry up the men-folk, and 
hae ye dookit in the burn for your impudence." 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. 1 

Jeanie had already turned her back, and was walking 
towards the door of the court-yard, so that Mrs Bal- 
christie, to make her last threat impressively audible to 
her, had raised her stentorean voice to its utmost pitch. 
But, like many a general, she lost the engagement by 
pressing her advantage too far. 

The Laird had been disturbed in his morning slumbers 
by the tones of Mrs Balchristie's objurgation, sounds in 
themselves by no means uncommon, but very remarka- 
ble, in respect to the early hour at which they were now 
heard. He turned himself on the other side, however, 
in hopes the squall would blow by, when, in the course 
of Mrs Balchristie's second explosion of wrath, the name 
of Deans distinctly struck the tympanum of his ear. As 
he was, in some degree, aware i.f the small portion of 
benevolence with which his housekeeper regarded the 
family at Saint Leonard's, he instantly conceived that 
some message from thence was the cause of this untimely 
ire; and getting out of his bed, he slipt as speedily as 
possible into an old brocaded night-gown, and some 
other necessary garments, clapped on his head his father's 
gold-laced hat, (for though he was seldom seen without 
it, yet it is proper to contradict the popular report, that 
he slept in it, as Don Quixotte did in his helmet,) and 
opening the window of his bed-room, beheld, to his 
great astonishment, the well- known figure of Jeanie 
Deans herself retreating from his gate; while his house- 
keeper, with arms a-kimbo, fist clenched and extended, 
body erect, and head shaking with rage, sent after her a 
volley of Billingsgate oaths. His choler rose in propor- 
tion to the surprise, and, perhaps, to the disturbance of 
his repose. " Hark ye," he exclaimed from the win- 
dow, " ye auld limb of Satan — wha the de'il gies you 
commission to guide an honest man's daughter th it gate?" 

Mrs Balchristie was completely caught in the manner. 
She was aware, from the unusual warmth with which 
the Laird expressed himself, that he was quite serious in 
this matter; and she knew that, with all his indolence of 
nature, there were points on which he might be pro- 



S Tales of My Landlord. 

voiced, and that, being provoked, he had in him some- 
thing dangerous, which her wisdom taught her to fear 
accordingly. She began, therefore, to retract her false 
step as fast as she could. " She was but speaking for 
the house's credit, and she couldna think of disturbing 
his honour in the morning sae early, when the young 
woman might as weel wait or call again; and to be sui-e, 
she might make a mistake between the twa sisters, for 
ane o' them wasnasae creditable an acquaintance." 

"Haud your peace, ye auld jade," said Dumbiedikes; 
" the warst quean e'er stude in their shoon may ca' you 
cousin, an' a' be true that I have heard. — Jeanie, my 
woman, gang into the parlour — but stay, that winna be 
redd up yet — wait there a minute till I come doun to let 
ye in — Dinna mind what Jenny says to ye." 

" Na, na," said Jenny, with a laugh of affected 
heartiness, " never mind me, lass — a' the w^arld ken& 
my bark's waur than my bite — if ye had had an appoint- 
ment wi' the Laird, ye might hae tauld me — I am nae 
uncivil person — gang your ways in bye, hinny," and she 
opened the door of the house with a master-key. 

"But I had no appointment wi' the Laird," said 
Jeanie, drawing back; " I want just to speak twa words 
to him, and I wad rather do it standing here, Mrs Bal- 
christie." 

"In the open court-yard? — Na, na, that wad never 
do, lass; we maunna guide ye that gate neither — ^And 
how's that douce honest man, your father?" 

Jeanie was saved the pain of answering this hypocriti- 
cal question by the appearance of the Laird himself. 

" Gang in and get breakfast ready," said he to his 
housekeeper — " and, d'ye hear, breakfast w^i' us yoursell 
— ye ken how to manage thae porringers of tea-water — 
and, hear ye, see abune a' that there's a gude fire. — 
Weel, Jeanie, my woman, gang in bye — gang in bye^ 
and rest ye." 

" Na, Laird," Jeanie replied, endeavouring as much 
as she could to express herself with composure, notwith- 
standing she still trembled, " I canna gang in — I have a 



The Heart of jMid- Lothian. 9 

land day's darg afore me — I maun be twenty mile o' 
^ate the night yet, if feet will carry me." 

" Guide and deliver us! — twenty mile — twenty mile 
on your feet!" ejaculated Dumbiedikes, whose walks 
were of a very circumscribed diameter, — " Ye maun 
never think of that — come in bye." 

" I cannado that, Laird," replied Jeanie; " the twa 
words I hae to say to ye I can say here; forbye that Mrs 
Balchristie" — 

" The de'il flee awa' wi' Mrs Balchristie," said 
Dumbiedikes, '' and he'll hae a heavy lading o' her. I 
tell ye, Jeanie Deans, I am a man of few words, but I 
am laird at hame, as weel as in the field; de'il a brute or 
body about my house but I can manage when I like, ex- 
cept Rory Bean, my powney; but lean seldom be at 
the plague, an' it binna when my bluid's up." 

"I was wanting to say to ye, Laird," said Jeanie, 
who felt the necessity of entering upon her business, 
" that I was gaun a lang journey, outbye of my father's 
knowledge." 

" Outbye his knowledge, Jeanie! — Is that right? — 
Ye maun think o't again — it's no right," said Dum- 
biedikes, with a countenance of great concern. 

" If I were anes at Lunnon," said Jeanie, in excul- 
pation, " I am amaist sure I could get means to speak to 
the queen about my sister's life.' 

" Lunnon — and the queen — and her sister's life!" 
said Dumbiedikes, whistling for very amazement — ^' the 
lassie's demented." 

" I am no out o' my mind," said she, " and sink or 
swim, I am determined to gang to Lunnon, if I suld beg 
my way frae door to door — and so I maun, unless ye 
wad lend me a small sum to pay my expences — little 
thing will do it; and ye ken my father's a man of sub- 
stance, and wad see nae man, far less you. Laird, come 
to loss by me." 

Dumbiedikes, on comprehending the nature of this 
application, could scarce trust his ears — he made no an- 
swer whatever, but stood with his eyes rivetted on the 
ground. 



%0 Tales of My Landlord, 

'' I see ye are no for assisting me, Laird," saki 
Jeanie; " sae fare ye weel — and gang and see my poor 
father as aften as you can — he will be lonely enough 
now." 

" Where is the silly bairn gaun?" said Dumbi^dikes; 
and, laying hold of her hand, he led her into the house. 
" It's no that I didna think o't before," he said, " but 
it stack in my throat." 

Thus speaking to himself, he led her into an old 
fashioned parlour, shut the door behind them, and 
fastened it with a bolt. While Jeanie, surprised at this 
manoeuvre, remained as near the door as possible, the 
Laird quitted her hand, and pressed upon a spring lock 
fixed in an oak-pannel in the wainscot, which instantly 
slipped aside. An iron strong box was discovered in a 
recess of the wall; he opened this also, and pulling out 
two or three drawers, shewed that they were filled with 
leathern bags, full of gold and silver coin. 

" This is my bank, Jeanie lass," he said, looking first 
at her, and then at the treasure, with an air of great com- 
placence, — " nane o' your goldsmith's bills for me, — 
they bring folk to ruin." 

Then suddenly changing his tone, he resolutely said, — 
" Jeanie, I will make ye Lady Dumbiedikes afore the 
sun sets, and ye may ride to Lunnon in your ain coach, 
if ye like." 

" Na, Laird," said Jeanie, " that can never be — 
my father's grief — my sister's situation — the discredit to 
you—" 

" That's my business,'^ said Dumbiedikes; " ye wad 
say naething about that if ye were na a fule — and yet 
I like ye the better for't — ae wise body's aneugh in the 
married state. But if your heart's ower fu', take what 
siller will serve ye, and let it be when ye come back again 
— as gude syne as sune." 

" But, Laird," said Jeanie, who felt the necessity of 
being explicit with so extraordinary a lover, " I like ano- 
ther man better than you, and I canna marry ye." 

"Another man better than me^ Jeanie.^" said Dum- 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. U 

biedikes — " how is that possible? — It's no possible, 
womaii — ye hae kenned me sae lang." 

" Ay but, Laird," said Jeanie, with persevering sim- 
plicity, " I kenn'd him langer." 

" Langer ?• — It's no possible. It canna be; ye were 
born on the land. O Jeanie woman, ye haena lookit — 
ye haena seen the half o' the gear," He drew out ano- 
ther drawer — " A' gowd, Jeanie, and there's bands for 
siller lent — And the rental book, Jeanie — clear three 
hunder sterling — de'il a wadset, heritable band, or 
burthen — Ye haena lookit at them, woman — And then 
my mother's wardrope, and my grandmother's forbye — 
silk gowns wad stand on their ends, their pearl in-Iace 
as fine as spiders' webs, and rings and ear-rings to the 
boot of a' that — they are a' in the chamber of deas — 
Oh, Jeanie, gang up the stair, and look at them." 

But Jeanie held fast her integrity, though beset with 
temptations, which perhaps the Laird of Dumbiedikes 
did not greatly err in supposing were those most affect- 
ing to her sex. 

" It canna be. Laird — I have said it — and I canna 
break my word till him, if ye wad gie me the haill barony 
of Dalkeith, and Lugton into the bargain." 

" Your word to /lim," said the Laird, somewhat pet- 
tishly; " but wha is he, Jeanie.'* — wha is he.^ — I haena 
heard his name yet—Come now, Jeanie, ye are but 
queering us — I am no trowing that there is sic a ane in 
the warld — ye are but making fashion — What is he.? — - 
wha is he ? 

" Just Reuben Butler, that's schule-master at Lib- 
berton," said Jeanie. 

" Reuben Butler! Reuben Butler!" echoed the Laird 
of Dumbiedikes, pacing the apartment in high disdain, — 
" Reuben Butler, the dominie at Libberton — and a do- 
minie depute too! — Reuben, the son of my cottar! — 
Very weel, Jeanie lass, wilfu' woman will hae her 
way — Reuben Butler! he hasna in his pouch the value 
o' the auld black coat he wears — but it disna signify." 
And, as he spoke, he shut successively, and with vehe- 



12 Tales of My Landlord. 

mence, the drawers of his treasury. "A fair offerj 
Jeanie, is nae cause of feud — Ae man may bring a horse 
to the water, but twenty wunna gar him drink— And as 
for wasting my substance on other folk's joes"- 

There was something in the last hint that nettled 
Jeanie's honest pride. — • I was begging nane frae your 
honour," she said; " least of a' on sic a score as ye pit it 
on. — Gude morning to ye, sir; ye hae been kind to my 
father, and it isna in my heart to think otherwise than 
kindly of you." 

So saying, she left the room without listening to a faint 
" But, Jeanie — Jeanie — stay, woman !" And travers- 
ing the court-yard with a quick step, she set out on her 
forward journey, her bosom glowing with that natural in- 
dignation and shame, which an honest mind feels at having 
subjected itself to ask a favour, which had been unex- 
pectedly refused. When out of the Laird's ground, and 
once more upon the public road, her pace slackened, her 
anger cooled, and anxious anticipations of the conse- 
quence of this unexpected disappointment began to influ- 
ence her with other feelings. Must she then actually 
beg her way to London ? for such seemed the alternative; 
or must she turn back, and solicit her father for money; 
and by doing so lose time, which was precious, besides 
the risk of encountering his positive prohibition respect- 
ing her journey ? Yet she saw no medium between these 
alternatives; and, while she walked slowly on, was still 
meditating whether it v^^ere not better to return. 

While she Vt^as thus in an uncertainty, she heard the 
clatter of a horse's hoofs, and a well-known voice calling 
her name. She looked round, and saw advancing to- 
wards her on a poney, whose bare back and halter assort- 
ed ill with the night-gown, slippers, and laced cocked-lrat 
of the rider, a cavalier of no less importance than Dum- 
biedikes himself. In the energy of his pursuit, he had 
overcome even the Highland obstinacy of Rory Bean, 
and compelled that self-willed palfrey to canter the way 
his rider chose; which Rory, however, performed with all 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. 13 

the symptoms of reluctance, turning his head, and accom- 
panying every bound he made in advance with a side- 
long motion, which indicated his extreme wish to turn 
round, — a manoeuvre which nothing but the constant ex- 
ercise of the Laird's heels and cudgel could possibly 
have rounteracted. 

When the Laird came up with Jeanie, the first words 
he uttered were, — " Jeanie, they say ane shouldna aye 
take a woman at her first word ?*' 

^' Ay, but ye maun take me at mine," said^Jeanie, look- 
ing on the ground, and walking on without a pause. — 
^' I hae but ae word to bestow on ony ane, and that's aye 
a true ane." 

" Then," said Dumbiedikes, " at least ye suldna aye 
take a man at his first word. Ye maunna gang this wil- 
fu' gate sillerless, come oH what like." — He put a purse 
into her hand. '' I wad gie ye Rory too, but he's as wil- 
fu' as yoursell, and he's ower weel used to a gate that 
maybe he and I hae gaen ower aften, and he'll gang nae 
road else." 

"But, Laird," said Jeanie, " though I ken my father 
will satisfy every penny of this siller, whatever there's o't, 
yet I wadna like to borrow it frae ane that maybe thinks 
of something mair than the paying o't back again." 

" There's just twenty-five guineas o't," said Dum- 
biedikes, with a gentle sigh, " and whether your father 
pays or disna pay, I make ye free till't without another 
word. Gang where ye like — do what ye like — and 
marry a' the Butlers in the country, gin ye like — And 
sae, gude morning to you, Jeanie." 

" And God bless you. Laird, wi' mony a gude morn- 
ing," said Jeanie, her heart more softened by tlie unwont- 
ed generosity of this uncouth character, than perhaps 
Butler might have approved, had he known her feelings 
at that moment; "and comfort, and the Lord's peace, 
and the peace of the world, be with you, if we suld never 
meet again !" 

Dumbiedikes turned and waved his hand; and his po- 
ney, much more willing to return, than he had been to 

VOL. II. B 



14 Tales of My Landlord. 

set out, hurried him homewards so fast, that, wanting the 
aid of a regular bridle, as well of saddle and stirrups, he 
was too much puzzled to keep his seat to permit of his look- 
ing behind, even to give the parting glance of a forlorn 
swain. I am ashamed to say, that the sight of a lover, 
run away with in night-gown and slippers and a laced- 
hat, by a bare-backed Highland poney, has something in 
it of a sedative, even to a grateful and deserved burst of 
affectionate esteem. The figure of Dumbiedikes was too 
ludicrous not to confirm Jeanie in the original sentiments 
she entertained towards him. 

" He's a gude creature," said she, *' and a kind — it's 
a pity he has sae willyard a poney." And she immedi- 
ately turned her thoughts to the important journey which 
she had commenced, reflecting with pleasure, that, ac- 
cording to her habits of life and of undergoing fatigue, 
she was now amply or even superfluously provided with 
the means of encountering the expences of the road, up 
and down from London, and all other expences what- 
ever. 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. 15 



CHAPTER II. 



What strange and wayward thoughts will slide 

Into a lover's head: 
'* O mercy !" to myself I cried, 

" If Lucy should be dead!" 

WOKDSWORTH. 



In pursuing her solitary journey, our heroine, soon 
after passing the house of Dumbiedikes, gained a little 
eminence, from which, on looking to the eastward down 
a prattling brook, whose meanders were shaded with 
straggling willows and alder trees, she could see the 
cottages of Woodend and Beersheba, the haunts and ha- 
bitation of her early life, and could distinguish the com- 
mon on wbich she had so often herded sheep, and the 
recesses of the rivulet where she had pulled rushes with 
Butler, to plait crowns and sceptres for her sister Effie, 
then a beautiful, but spoiled child, of about three years 
old. The recollections which the scene brought with 
them were so bitter, that, had she indulged them, she 
would have sate down and relieved her heart with 
tears. 

"jBut I kenn'd," said Jeanie, " that greeting would 
do but little good, and that it was mair beseeming to 
thank the Lord, that had shewed me kindness and coun- 
tenance by means of a man, that mony ca'ed a Nabal and 
churl, but wha was free of his gudes to me as ever the 
fountain was free of the stream. And I minded the Scrip- 
ture about the sin of Israel at Mirebah, when the people 
murmured, although Moses had brought water from the 
dry rock that the congregation might drink and live. Sae, 
I wad not trust mysell with another look at poor Wood- 
end, for the very blue reek that came out of the lum- 
head pat me in mind of the change of market-days with 
us." 



16 Tales of My Landlord. 

In this resigned and Christian temper she pursued hep 
journey, until she was beyond this place of melancholy 
recollections, and not distant from the village where But- 
ler dwelt, which, with its old-fashioned church and stee- 
ple, rises among a tuft of trees, occupying the ridge of an 
eminence to the south of Edinburgh. At a quarter of a 
mile's distance is a clumsy square tower, %he residence of 
the laird, who, in former times, with the habits of the 
predatory chivalry of Germany, is said frequently to have 
annoyed the city of Edinburgh, by intercepting the sup^ 
plies and merchandize which came to the town from the 
southward. 

This village, its tower, and its church, did not lie pre- 
cisely in Jeanie's road towards England; but they were 
not much aside from it, and the village was the abode of 
Butler. She had resolved to see him in the beginning of 
her journey, because she conceived him the most proper 
person to write to her father concerning her resolution 
and her hopes. There was probably another reason la- 
tent in her affectionate bosom. She wished once more 
to sec the object of so early and so sincere an attachment, 
before commencing a pilgrimage, the perils of which she 
did not disguise from herself, although she did not allow 
them to press upon her mind as to diminish the strength 
and energy of her resolution. A visit to a lover from a 
young person in a higher rank of life than Jeanie's, would 
have had something forward and improper in its charac- 
ter. But the simplicity of her rural habits was inconsis- 
tent with these punctilious ideas of decorum, and no no- 
tion, therefore, of impropriety crossed her imagination, 
as, setting out upon a long journey, she went to bid adieu 
to an early friend. 

There was still another motive that pressed upon her 
mind with additional force as she approached the village. 
She had looked anxiously for Butler in the court-house, 
and had expected that certainly, in some part of that 
eventful day, he would have appeared to bring such coun- 
tenance and support as he could give to his old friend, and 
the protector of bis youth, even if her own claims were 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. H 

laid aside. She knew, indeed, that he was under a cer- 
tain degree of restraint; but she still had hoped that he 
would have found means to emancipate himself from if, 
at least for one day. In short, the wild and wayward 
thoughts which Wordsworth has described as rising in an 
absent lover's imagination, suggested as the only explana- 
tion of his abseUce, that Butler must be very ill. And so 
much had this wrought on her imaginalBte, that when she 
approached the cottage in which her lover occupied a 
small apartment, and which had been pointed out to her 
by a maiden with a milk-pail on her head, she trembled 
at anticipating the answer she might receive on enquiring 
for him. 

Her fears in this case had, indeed, only hit upon the 
truth. Butler, whose constitution was naturally feeble, 
did not soon recover the fatigue of body and distress of 
mind which he had suffered, in consequence of the tragi- 
cal events with which our narrative commenced. The 
painful idea that his character was breathed on by suspi- 
cion, was an aggravation to his distress. 

But the most cruel addition was, the absolute prohibi- 
tion laid by the magistrates on his holding any communi- 
cation with Deans or his family. It had unfortunately 
appeared likely to them, that some intercourse might jje 
again attempted with that family by Robertson, through 
the medium of Butler, and this they were anxious to in- 
tercept, or prevent if possible. The measure was not 
meant as a harsh or injurious severity on the part of the 
magistrates; but, in Butler's circumstances, it pressed 
cruelly hard. He felt he must be suffering under the bad 
opinion of the person who was dearest to him, from an im- 
putation of unkind desertion, the most alien to his na- 
ture. 

This painful thought, pressing on a l>ame already in- 
jured, brought on a succession of slow and lingering fe- 
verish attacks, which greatly impaired his health, and at 
length rendered him incapable even of the sedentary du- 
ties of the school, on which his bread depended. Fortu- 
nately, old Mr. Whackbairn, who was the principal of 

B 2 

4 



18 Tales of My Landlord: 

the little parochial establishment, was sincerely attached 
to Butler. Besides that he was sensible of his merits apr^ 
value as an assistant, which had greatly raised the ci^dit 
of his little school, the ancient pedagogue, who had him- 
self been tolerably educated, retained some taste for clas- 
sical lore, and would gladly relax after Jhe drudgery of 
the school was over, by conning over a few pages of Ho- 
race or Juvenal ||ith his usher. A similarity of taste be- 
got kindness, and he accordingly saw Butler's increasing 
debility with great compassion, roused up his own ener- 
gies to teaching the school in the morning hours, insisted 
upon his assistant's reposing himself at that period, and, 
besides, supplied him with such comforts as the patient's 
situation required, and his own means were inadequate to 
compass. 

Such was Butler's situation, scarce able to drag him- 
self to the place where his daily drudgery must gain his 
daily bread, and racked with a thousand fearful anticipa- 
tions concerning the fate of those who were dearest to 
him in the world, when the trial and condemnation of 
Effie Deans put the cope-stone upon his mental misery. 

He had a particular account of these events from a fel- 
low student, who resided in the same village, and who, 
i||viiig been present on the melancholy occasion, was able 
to place it in ail its agony of horrors before his excruci- 
ated imagination. That sleep should have visited his 
eyes, after such a curfew-note, was impossible. A thou- 
sand dreadful visions haunted his imagination all night, 
and in the morning he was awaked from a feverish 
slumber, by the only circumstance which could have ad- 
ded to his distress — the visit of an intrusive ass. 

This unwelcome visitant was no other than Bartholine 
Saddletree. The worthy and sapient burgher had kept 
his appointment at MacCroskie's, with Plumdamas and 
some other neighbours, to discuss the Duke of Argyle's 
speech, the justice of Effie Dean's condemnation, and 
the improbability of her obtaining a reprieve. This 
iage conclave disputed high and drank deep, and on the 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. 19' 

next morning Bartholine felt, as he expressed it, as if his 
head was like a " confused progress of writts." 

To bring bis reflective powers to their usual serenity, 
Saddletree resolved to take a morning's ride upon a cer- 
tain bctckney, which he, Plumdamas, and another honest 
shopkeeper, combined to maintain by joint subscription, 
for occasional joints for the purpose oO)usiness or ex- 
ercise. As Saddletree had two childHjl' boarded with 
Whackbairn, and was, as we have seen, rather fond of 
Butler's society, he turned his palfrey's head towards 
Libberton, and came, as we have already said, to give 
the unfortunate usher that additional vexation, of which 
Imogene complains so feelingly when she says, 

" I'm sp righted with a fool — 
Sprighted and angered worse." 



If any thing c^ld have added gall to bitterness, it 
was the choice which Saddletree made of a subject for 
his prosing harangues, being the trial of Effie Deans, and 
the probability of her being executed. Every word fell 
on Butler's ear like the knell of a death-bell, or the note 
of a screech-owl. 

Jeanie paused at the door of her lover's humble abode 
upon hearing the loud and pompous tones of Saddletree 
sounding from tlfe inner apartment, " Credit me, it. will 
be sae, Mr Butler. — Brandy cannot save her. — She maun 
gang down the Bow wi' the lad in the pioted coat at her 
heels.— I am sorry for the lassie, but the law, sir, maun 
bae its course — 

" Vivat Rex, 
CurratLex;" 

aS the poet has it, in whilk of Horace's odes 1 know not.'" 
Here Butler groaned, in utter impatience of the bru- 
tality and ignorance which Bartholine had contrived to 
amalgamate into one sentence. But Saddletree, like 
other prosers, was blessed with a happy obtuseness of 
perception concerning the unfavourable impression which 



• • 



•% 



20 Tales of My Landlon), 

he sometimes made on his auditors. He proceeded to 
deal forth his scraps of legal knowledge without mercy, 
and concluded by asking Butler, with great self-compla- 
cency, " Was it na a pity my father didna send me to 
Utrecht? Havena I missed the chance to turn out as 
clarisshnus an ictus^ as auld Grunwiggin himsell? — What- 
for dinna ye speak, Mr Butler? Wad I* no hae been a 
clarissimus icti0 — Eh, man?" 

" I really do not understand you, Mr Saddletree," 
said Butler, thus pushed hard for an answ^er. His faint 
and exhausted tone of voice was instantly drowned in 
the sonorous bray of Bartholine. 

" No understand me, man? — Ictus is Latin for a law- 
yer, is it not?" 

" Not that ever I heard of," answered Butler, in the 
same dejected tone. 

"The de'il ye didna! — See, man,Xgot the word but 
this morning out of a memorial of JVlr Crossmyloof's — 
see there it is, ictus clarissimus et perti — peritissimus — it's 
a' Latin, for it's printed in the Italian types." 

" you mean juris- consultus. — Ictus is an abbrevia- 
tion for juris- consultus.''^ 

" Dinna tell me, man," persevered Saddletree, 
"there's nae abbreviates except in adjudications; and 
this is a' about a servitude of water-dr^ — that is to say, 
tillicidian^^ (majbc ye'll say that's no Latin neither) in 
Mary King's Close, in the High Street." 

" Very likely," said poor Butler, overwhelmed by the 
noisy perseverance of his visitor. " I am not able to 
dispute with you." 

" Few folks are — few folks are, Mr Butler, though I 
say it, that should na say it," returned Bartholine, with 
great delight. " Now it Avill be twa hours yet or ye're 
wanted in the schule, and as ye are no weel, I'll sit wi' 
you to divert ye, and explain t'ye the nature of a tillici- 
dian. Ye maun ken, the pursuer, Mrs Crombie, a very 
decent woman, is a friend of mine, and I hae stude her 

* He meant, probably, stillicidium. 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 21 

friend in this case, and brought her wi' credit into the 
court, and I doubtna, that in due time she will win out 
o't wi' c edit, win she or lose she. Ye see, being an 
inferior tenement or laigh-house, we grant ourselves to 
be burthened wi' the tillicide, that is, that we are ob- 
ligated to receive the natural water-drap of the superior 
tenement, sae far as the same fa's frae the heavens, or 
the roof of our neighbour's house, and worn thence by 
the gutters or eaves upon our laigh tenement. But the 
other night comes a Highland quean of a lass, and she 
flashes, God kens what, out at the eastmost window of 
Mrs MacPhail's house, that's the superior tenement. I 
believe the auld women wad hae greed, for Luckie 
MacPhail sent down the lass to tell my friend Mrs 
Crombie that she had made the gardy-loo out of the 
wrang window, out of respect for twa Highlandmen 
that were speaking Gaelic in the close below the right 
ane. But luckily for Mrs Crombie, I just chanced to 
come in in time to break aff the communing, for it's a 
pity the point suldna be tried. We had Mrs MacPhail 
into the Ten-Mark Court — The hielandlimmer of a lass 
wanted to swear herself free — but baud ye there, 
says F' — 

The detailed account of this important suit might have 
lasted until ^oor|Butler's hour of rest was completely 
exhausted, had not Saddletree been interrupted by the 
noise of voices at the door. The woman of the house 
where Butler lodged, on returning with her pitcher from 
the well, whence she had been fetching water for the 
family, found our heroine Jeanie Deans standing at the 
door, impatient of the prolix harangae of Saddletree, yet 
unwilling to enter until he should have taken his leave. 

The good woman abridged the period of hesitation by 
enquiring, " Was ye wanting the gudeman or me, lass?" 

" I wanted to speak with Mr Butler, if he's at lei- 
sure," replied Jeanie. 

" Gang in bye then, my woman," answered thegood- 
nife; and opening the door of a room, she announced 



22 Tales of My Landlord. 

the additional visitor, with " Mr Butler, here's a lass 
wants to speak t'ye." 

The surprise of Butler was extreme, when Jeanie. 
who seldom stirred half a mile from home, entered his 
apartment upon this annunciation. 

" Good God!" he said, starting from his chair, while 
alarm restored to his cheek the colour of which sickness 
had deprived it; " some new misfortune must have hap- 
pened," 

'' None, Mr Reuben, but what you must hae heard 
of — but O ye are looking ill yoursell!" — for the " hectic 
of a moment" had not concealed from her aflectionate 
eye the ravages which lingering disease and anxiety of 
mind had made in her lover's person. 

"No: I am well — quite well," said Butler, with 
eagerness; " if I can do anything to assist you, Jeanie — 
or your father." 

"Ay, to be sure," said Saddletree; "the family may 
be considered as limited to them twa now, just as if 
Effie had never been in the tailzie, puir thing. But Jeanie, 
lass, what brings you out to Libberton sae air in the 
morning, and your father lying ill in the Luckenbooths .^" 

" I had a message frae my father to Mr Butler," said 
Jeanie, with embarrassment; but instantly feeling ashamed 
of the fiction to which she had resorted, fo» her love of 
and veneration for truth was almost quaker-like, she 
corrected herself — " that is to say, I wanted to speak 
with Mr Butler about some business of my father's and 
puir Effie's." 

" Is it law business?" said Bartholine; " because if it 
be, ye had better take my opinion on the subject than 
his." 

"It is not just law business," said Jeanie, w^ho saw 
considerable inconvenience might arise from letting Mr. 
Saddletree into the secret purpose of her journey; " but 
I want Mr Butler to write a letter for me." 

" Very right," said Mr Saddletree; " and if ye'll tell 
me what it is about, I'll dictate to Mr Butler as Mr 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. 23 

Crossmyloof does to his clerk. Get your pen and ink 
in imtialibus^ Mr Butler." 

Jeanie looked at Butler, and wrung her hands with 
vexation and impatience. 

" I believe, Mr Saddletree," said Butler, who saw the 
necessity of getting rid of him at all events, '' that Mr 
Whackbairn will be somewhat affronted, if you do not 
hear your boys called up to their lessons." 

" Indeed, Mr Butler, and that's as true; and I promis- 
ed to ask a half-play-day to the schule, so that the bairns 
might gang and see the hanging, which canna but have a 
pleasing effect on their young minds, seeing there is no 
knowing what they may come to themselves. — Odd so, I 
didna mind ye were here, Jeanie Deans; but ye maun 
use yoursell to hear the matter spoken o'. — Keep Jeanie 
here till I come back, Mr Butler; I wunna bide ten 
minutes." 

And with this unwelcome assurance of an immediate 
return, he relieved them of the embarrassment of his pre- 
sence. 

" Reuben," said Jeanie, who saw the necessity of using 
the interval of his absence in discussing what had brought 
her there, " I am bound on a lang journey — I am gaun to 
Lunnon to ask Effie's life at the king and at the queen." . 

" Jeanie! you are surely not yourself," answered But- 
ler, in the utmost surprise; " you go to London — you ad- 
dress the king and queen !" 

" And what for no, Reuben," said Jeanie, with all the 
composed simplicity of her character; '' it's but speaking 
to a mortal man and woinan when a' is done. And their 
hearts maun be made o' flesh and blood like other folk's, 
and Effie's story wad melt them were they stane. For- 
bye, I hae heard that they are no sic bad folk as what 
the Jacobites ca's them." 

" Yes, Jeanie," said Butler; but their magnificence — 
their retinue — the difficulty of getting audience?" 

" I have thought of a' that, Reuben, and it shall not 
break my spirit. Nae doubt their claiths will be very 
grand, wi' their crowns on their heads, and their seep- 



^4 Tales of My Landlord. 

tres in their hands, like the great King Ahasuerus when 
he sate upon his rojal throne foranent the gate of his 
house, as we are told in scrijiture. But I have that with- 
in me that will keep my heart from failing, and I am 
amaist sure that 1 will be strengthened to speak the 
errand I came for." 

'' Alas ! alas !" said Butler, " the kings now-a-days 
do not sit in the gate to administer justice, as in patri- 
archal times. 1 know as iitiie of courts as you do, Jeanie, 
by experience; but by reading and report, I know that 
the King of Britain does every thing by means of his 
ministers." 

" And if they be upright, God-fearing ministers," said 
Jeanie, " it's sae muckle the better chance for Effie and 
me." 

" But you do not even understand the most extraordi- 
nary w^ords relating to a court," said Butler; " by the 
ministry is meant the king's official servants." 

" Nae doubt," returned Jeanie, " he maun hae a great 
number mair, I dare to say, than the dutchess has at Dal- 
keith, and great folk's servants are aye mair saucy than 
themselves. But I'll be decently put on, and I'll offer 
them a trifle o' siller, as if I came to see the palace. Or 
if they scruple that, I'll tell them I'm come on a busi- 
ness of life and death, and they will surely bring me to 
speech of the king and queen?" 

Butler shook his head. '^ 0, Jeanie, this is entirely a 
wild dream. Yon can never see them but througli some 
great lord's intercession, and I think it is scarce possible 
even then." 

" Weel, but may b-^ I can get that too," said Jeanie. 
" with a little helping from you." 

" From me, Jeanie ! this is the wildest imagination of 
all." 

" Ay, but it is not Reuben — Haven a I heard you say, 
that your grandfather (that my father never likes to hear 
about) did some gude langsyne to the forbear of this 
MacCallummore, when he was Lord of Lorn.'"' 

** He did so," said Butler, eagerly, " aiid I can prove 



. llie Heart of Mid-LothiaH' J* 

it. — I will write to the Duke of Argyle — report speaks 
him a good kindly man, as he is known for a brave sol- 
dier and true patriot — I will conjure him to stand between 
your sister and this cruel fate. There is but a poor 
chance of success, but we will try all means." 

" We must try all means," replied Jeanie; " but 
writing winna do it — a letter canna look, and pray, and 
beg, and beseech, as the human voice can do to the hu- 
man heart. A letter's like the music that the ladies have 
for their spinets — naething but black scores, compared 
to the same tune played or sung. It's word of mouth 
maun do it, or naething, Reuben." 

" You are right," said Reuben, recollecting his firm- 
ness, " and I will hope that Heaven has suggested to your 
kind heart and firm courage the only possible means of 
saving the life of this unfortunate girl. But, Jeanie, you 
must not take this most perilous journey alone; I have an 
interest in you, and I will not agree that my Jeanie throw 
herself away. You must even, in the present circum- 
stances, give me a husband's right to protect you, and I 
will go with you myself upon this journey, and assist you 
to do your duty by your family." 

"Alas, Reuben!" said Jeanie in her turn, " this must 
not be; a pardon will not gie my sister her fair fame 
again, or make me a bride fitting for an honest man and 
an usefu' minister. Wha wad mind what he said in the 
pu'pit, that had to wife the sister of a woman that was 
condemned for sic wickedness?" 

" But, Jeanie," pleaded her lover, " I do not believe, 
and I cannot believe, that Effie has done this deed." 

" Heaven bless you for saying sae, Reuben," answer- 
ed Jeanie; " but she maun bear the blame o't after all. 

" But that blame, were it justly laid on her, does not 
fall on you?" 

" Ah, Reuben, Reuben," replied the young woman, 
" ye ken it is a blot that spreads to kith and kin. — Icha- 
bod — as my poor father says — the glory is departed from 
our house; for the poorest man's house has a glory, where 

VOL ir. c 



^ Tales of My Landlord. 

there are true hands, a divine heart, and an honest fame 
— And the last has gane frae us a'." 

" But, Jeanie, consider your word and plighted faith 
to me; and would ye undertake such a journey without a 
man to protect you, and who should that protector be but 
your husband?" 

" You are kind and good, Reuben, and wad take me wi- 
a' my shame, I doubt na. But ye canna but own that this is 
no time to marry, or be given in marriage. Na, if that suld 
ever be, it maun be in another and a better season. — And, 
dear Reuben, ye speak of protecting me on my journey. 
Alas! who will protect and take care of you? your very 
limbs tremble with standina for ten minutes on the floor; 
how could you undertake a journey as far as Lunnon?" 

" But I am strong — I am well," continued Butler, 
sinking in his seat totally exhausted, " at least I will be 
quite well to-morrow." 

" Ye see, and ye ken, ye maun just let me depart," 
said Jeanie, after a pause; and then taking his ex- 
tended hand, and gazing kindly in his face, she 
added, " It's e'en a grief the mair to me to see you 
in this way. But ye maun keep up your heart for 
Jeanie's sake, for if she isna your wife, she will 
never be the wife of living man. And now gie me the 
paper for MacCallummore, and bid God speed me on 
my way." 

There was something of romance in Jeanie's ventur- 
ous resolution; yet, on consideration, as it seemed im- 
possible to alter it by persuasion, or to give her assistance 
but by advice, Butler, after some farther debate, put 
into her hands the paper she desired, which, with the 
muster-roll in which it was folded up, were the sole me- 
morials of the stout and enihusiasUc Bible Builer, his 
grandfather. While Butler sought this document, 
Jeanie had time to take up his pocket Bible. '^ 1 have 
marked a scripture," she said, as she again laid it down, 
" wi^h your kylevine pen, that will be useful to us baith. 
And ye maun take the trouble, Reuben, to write a' this 
to my father, for, God help me, I have neither head nor 



The Heart of Mld-Lothian. Pi 

uand ibr lang letters at ony time, forbye now; and I trust 
him entirely to you, and I trust you will soon be per- 
m;itt;d to see him. And, Reuben, when ye do win to 
ti - speech o' him, mind a' the auld man's bits o' ways 
foi Jeanie's sake; and dinna speak o' Latin or English 
ler^as to him, for he's o' the auld warld, and downa bide 
to be fashed wi' them, though I dare say he may he 
wr^ng. And dinna ye say muckJe to him, but set him 
0:0 speaking himseil, forhe'il bring himsell mair comfort 
thar\vay. And, O Reuben, the poor lassie in yon dun- 
geon — but I needna bid your kind heart — gie her what 
cojp.fortye can as soon as they will let ye see her-— tell 
her — but I maunna speak mair about her, for I maunna 
take leave o' ye wi' tiie tear in my ee, for that wadna 
be canny. — God bless ye, Reuben!" 

To avoid so ill an omen she left the room hastily, 
while her features yet retained the mournful and affec- 
tionate smile which she had compelled them to wear, in 
order to support Butler's spirits. 

It seemed as if the power of light, of speech, and of 
reflection, had left him as she disappeared from the room, 
which she had entered and retired from so like an ap- 
parition. Saddletree, who entered immediately after- 
wards, overwhelmed him with questions, which he an- 
swered without understanding them, and with legal dis- 
quisitions, which conveyed to him no iota of meaning. 
At length the learned burgess recollected that there was 
a Baron Court to be held at I^oan-head that day, and 
though it was hardly worth while, " he might as weel 
go to see if there was ony thing doing, as he was ac- 
quainted with the baron-baillie, who was a decent man, 
and would be glad of a word of legal advice." 

So soon as he departed, Butler flew to the Bible, the 
last book which Jeanie had touched. To his extreme 
surprise, a paper, containing two or three pieces of gold, 
dropped from the book. With a black lead pencil, she 
had marked the sixteenth and iwenty-fifth verses of the 
thirty-seventh Psalm, — " A little that a righteous man 
hath', is better than the riches of the wicked." — " I 



28 Tales of My Landlord. 

have been young and am now old, yet have I not seen the 
righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging their bread." 

Deeply impressed with the affectionate delicacy which 
shrouded its own generosity under the cover of a pro- 
vidential supply to his wants, he pressed the gold to his 
lips with more ardour than ever the metal was greeted 
by a miser. To emulate her devout firmness and con- 
fidence seemed now the pitch of his ambition, and his 
first task was to write an account to David Deans of 
his daughter's resolution and journey southward. He 
studied every sentiment, and even every phrase, which 
he thought could reconcile the old man to her extraor- 
dinary resolution. The effect which this epistle produc- 
ed will be hereafter adverted to. Butler committed it 
to the charge of an honest clown, who had frequent 
dealings with Deans in the sale of his dairy pro- 
duce, and who readily undertook a journey to Edin- 
burgh, to put the letter into his own hands.* 

* By dint of assiduous research I am enabled to certiorate the 
reader, that the name of this person was Saunders Broadfoot, and 
that he dealt in the wholesome commodity called kirn-milk^ 
{Jne^licc, butter-milk).—- J. C. 



l%e Heart (jf' Mid- Lothian. 29, 



CHAPTER III. 



" My native land, good night." 

Lord Byrow. 



In the present day, a journey from Edinburgh to Lon- 
don is a matter at once safe, brief, and simple, however 
inexperienced or unprotected the traveller. Numerous 
coaches of ditferent rates of charge, and as many packets, 
are perpetually passing and repassing betwixt the capital 
of Britain and her northern sister, so that the most timid 
or indolent may execute such a journey upon a few hours 
notice. But it was diff rent in 1737. So slight and in- 
frequent was the intercourse betwixt London and Edin- 
burgh, that men still alive remember that upon one occa- 
sion the mail from the former city arrived at the General 
Post-OtFice in Scotland, with niy one letter in it. The 
usual mode of travelling was by means of posi-horses, the 
traveller occupying one, and his guide another, in which 
manner, by relays of horses from stage to stage, the jour- 
ney might be accomplished in a wonderfully short time by 
those who could endure fatigue. To have the bones 
shaken to pieces by a constant change of those liacks, was} 
a luxury for the rich — the poor were under the necessity 
of using the mode of conveyance with which nature had 
provided them. 

With a strong heart, and a frame patient of fatigue, 
Jeanie Deans, travelling at the rate of tw enty miles a-day, 
and sometimes farther, traversed the southern part of 
Scoiland, and advanced as far as Durham. 

Hitherto she had been either among her ow'n country- 
folks, or those to whom her bare feet and tartan screen 
were objects too familiar to attract much attention. But 
as she advanced, she perceived that both circumstances 
exposed her to sarcasm and taunts, which she miglit other- 
wise have escaped; and, although in her heart she though* 
c2 



m Tales of My Landlord 

it unkind, and unhospitable, to sneer at a passing stranger 
on account of the fashion of her attire, yet she had the 
good sense to alter those parts of her dress which attract- 
ed ill-natured observation. Her checquered screen was 
deposited carefully in her bundle, and she conformed to 
the national extravagance of wearing shoes and stockings 
for the whole day. 

She confessed afterwards, that " besides the wastrife, 
it was lang or she could walk sae comfortably with the 
shoes as without them, but there was often a bit saft hea- 
ther by the road-side, and that helped her weel on." The 
want of the screen, which was drawn over the head like 
a veil, she supplied by a bon-grace, as she called it ; a 
large straw bonnet, like those worn by the English maid- 
ens when labouring in the fields. " But I thought unco 
shame o' mysell," she said, " the first time I put on a 
married woman's feon-grrtce, and me a single maiden." 

With these changes she had little, as she said, to make 
" her kenspeckle when she didna speak," but her accent 
^nd language drew down on her so many jests and gibes, 
couched in a worse patois by far than her own, that she 
soon found it was her interest to speak as little and as 
seldom as possible. She answered, therefore, civil salu- 
tations of chance passengers with a civil curtsey, and 
chose, with anxious circumspection, such places of repose 
as looked at once most decent and sequestered. She found 
the common people of England, although inferior in 
courtesy to strangers, such as was then practised in her 
own more unfrequented country, yet, upon the whole, by 
no means deficient in the real duties of hospitality. She 
readily obtained food, and shelter, and protection at a 
very moderate rate, which sometimes the generosity of 
mine host altogether declined, with a blunt apology, — - 
"Thee hast a lang way afore thee, lass; and I'se ne'er 
take penny out o' a single woman's purse; it's the best 
friend thou can have on the road." 

It often happened, too, that mine hostess was struck 
with " the tidy, nice Scotch body," and procured her an 
escort or a cast in a waggon for some part of the way, or 



The Heart of Md-Lothian. Si 

gave her useful advice and recommendation respecting her 
resting-places. 

At York, our pilgrim stopped for the best part of a day, 
parti)' to recruit her strength, — partly because she had the 
good luck to obtain a lodging in an inn kept by a country 
woman, — partly to indite two letters to her father and 
Reuben Butler; an operation of some little difficulty, her 
habits being by no means those of literary composition. 
That to her father was in the following words: 

"Dearest Father, 
" I make my present pilgrimage more heavy and bur- 
thensome, through the sad occasion to reflect that it is 
without your knowledge, which, God knows, was far con- 
trary to my heart; for Scripture says, that " (he vow of 
the daughter should not be binding without consent of the 
father," wherein it may be I have been guilty to tak this 
wearie journey without your consent. Nevertheless, it 
was borne in upon my mind that I should be an instru- 
ment to help my poor sister in this extremity of needces- 
sity, otherwise I wad not, for wealth or for world's gear, 
or for the hale laads of Da'keith and Lugton, have done 
the like o' this, without your free will and knowledge. 
0, dear father, as ye wad desire a blessing on my jour- 
ney, and upon your household, speak a word or write a 
line of comfort to yon poor prisoner. If she has sinned, 
she has sorrowed and suffered, and ye ken better than me, 
that we maun forgi'e others, as we pray to be forgi'en. 
Dear father, forgive my saying this muckle, for it doth 
not become a young head to instruct grey hairs; bui 1 am 
sae far frae ye, that my heart yearns to ye a', and fain 
wad I hear that ye had forgi'en her trespass, and sae I nae 
doubt say mair than may become me. The folk here are 
civil, and, like the barbarians unto the holy apostle, hae 
shown me much kindness; and there are a sort of chosen 
people in the land, for they hae some kirks without organs 
that are like ours, and are called meeting-houses, where 
the minister preaches without a gown. But most of the 
country are prelatists, whilk is awfu' to think; and I saw 



"^ Tales of My Landlord. 

twa men that were ministers following huncls, as bauld a.s 
Rosiin or Driden, the young Laird of Loup-the-dike, or 
on} wild gallant in Lothian. A sorrowfu' sight to be- 
hold! O, dear father, may a blessing be with your 
down-lying and up-rising, and remember in your prayers 
your affectionate daughter to command, 

" Jean Deans." 

A postcript bore, " I learned from a decent woman, a 
grazier's widow, that they hae a cure for the muir-ill 
in Cumberland, whilk is ane pint, as they ca't, of yill, 
whilk is a dribble in comparison of our gawsie Scots pint, 
and hardly half ane mutchkin, boilM wi' soap and harts-- 
horn draps, and toomed doun the creature's throat wi' 
ane whom. Ye might i.ry it on ihe bauson-faced year- 
auld quey; an' it does nae gude, it can do nae ill. — She 
was a kind woman, and seemed skeely about horned 
beasts. When I reach Lunnon, I intend to gang to our 
cousin Mistress Glass, ihe tobacconist, at the sign o' the 
Thistle, wha is so ceevil as to send you down your spleu- 
chan-fu' anes a-year, and as she must be weel kenn'd ia 
Lunnon, I doubt not easily to find out where she lives." 

Being seduced into betraying our heroine's confidence 
thus far, we will stretch our communication a step beyond:, 
and impart to the reader her letter to her lover. 

" Mr. Reuben Butler, 
*' Hoping this will find you better, this comes to say, 
that I have reached this great town safe, and am not 
wearied with walking, but the better for it. And I have 
seen many things which I trust to tell you one day, also 
the muckle kirk of this place; and all around the city are 
mills, whilk havena muckle wheels nor mill-dams, but 
gang by the wind — strange to behold. Ane miller ask- 
ed me to gang in and see it work, but I wad not, for I am 
not come to the south to make acquaintance with stran- 
gers. I keep the straight road, and just beck if ony body 
speaks to me ceevilly, and answers naebody with th« 



The Heart of Mid-Lolhian, 33 

long but women of mine ain sect. I wish, Mr. Butler, I 
kenn'd ony thing that wad mak ye weel, for they hae 
mair medicines in this town of York than wad cure a' 
Scotland, and surely some of them wad be gude for your 
complaints. If ye had a kindly motherly body to nurse 
ye, and no to let ye waste yoursell wi' reading — whilk ye 
read mair than aneugh with the bairns in the schule — 
and to gie ye warm milk in the morning, I wad be mair 
easy for ye. Dear Mr. Butler, keep a gude heart, for 
we are in the hands of ane that kens better what is gude 
for us than we ken what is for oursells. I hae nae doubt 
to do that for which I am come — I canna doubt it — I win- 
na think to doubt it — because, if I haena full assurance, 
how shall I bear myself with earnest entreaties in the great 
folk's presence ? But to ken that ane's purpose is right, 
and to make their heart strong, is the way to get through 
the warst day's dargue. The bairns' rime says, the warst 
blast of the borrowing days couldna kill the three silly 
poor hog-lams. And if it be Grod's pleasure, we that arc 
sindered in sorrow may meet again in joy, even on this 
hither side of Gordan. I dinna bid ye mind what I said 
at our partin' anent my poor father and that misfortunate 
lassie, for 1 ken ye will do sae for the sake of Christian 
charity, whilk is mair than the entreaties of her that is 
your servant to command, 

" Jeanie Deans." 

This letter also had a postcript. " Dear Reuben, if ye 
think that it wad hae been right for me to have said mair 
and kinder things to ye, just think that I hae written sae, 
since I am sure that I wish a' that is kind and right to ye 
and by ye. Ye will think I am turn waster, for I 
wear clean hose and shoon everyday; but it's the fashion 
here for decent bodies, and ilka land has its ain laugh. 

Ower and aboon a', if laughing days were e'er to come 
back again till us, ye wad laugh weel to see my round 
face at the far end of a sirae bongrace, that looks as muc- 
kle and round as the middeli aisle in Libberton Kirk. 
But it sheds the sun weel aff, and keeps unceevil folkfrae 



34 Tales of My Landlord. 

staring as if ane were a worrycow. I sail tell ye by 
writ how I come on wi' the Duke of Argyle, when I won 
up to Lunnon. Direct a line, to say how ye are, to me, 
to the charge of Mrs Margaret Glass, tobacconist, at the 
sign of the Thistle, Lunnon, whilk, if it assures me of 
your health, will make my mind sae muckle easier. Ex- 
cuse bad spelling and writing, as I have ane ill pen." 

The orthography of these epistles may seem to the 
southern to require a better apology than the letter ex- 
presses; but, on behalf of the heroine, I would have them 
know, that, thanks to the care of Butler, Jeanie Deans 
wrote and spelled fifty times b<lter than half the women 
of rank in Scotland at that period, whose strange ortho- 
graphy and singular diction form the strongest contrast to 
the good sense which their correspondence usually in- 
timates. 

For the rest, in the tenor of these epistles, Jeanie ex- 
pressed, perhaps, more hopes, a firmer courage, and bet- 
ter spirits, than she actually felt. But this was with the 
amiable idea of relieving her father and lover from ap- 
prehensions on her account, which she was sensible must 
greatly add to their other troubles. " If they think me 
weel, and like to do weel," said the poor pilgrim to her- 
self, " my father will be kinder to Effie, and Butler will 
be kinder to himsell. For I ken weel thut they will 
think mair o' me, than I do o' mysell." 

Accordingly, she sealed her letters carefully, and put 
them into the post-office with her own hand, after many 
enquiries concerning the time in which they were likely 
to reach Edinl>urgh. When, this duty was performed, 
she readily accepted her lanilady's pressing invitation to 
dine with her, and remain till the next morning. The 
hostess, as we have said, was her country-woman, and 
the eagerness with which Scottish people meet, commu- 
nicate, and, to the extent of their power, assist each 
other, although it is often objected to us, as a prejudice 
anil narrowness of sentiment, seems, on the contrary, to 
arise from a most justifiable and honourable feeling of 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. 35 

patriotism, combined with a conviction, which, if unde- 
served, would long since have been confuted by experi- 
ence, that the habits and principles of the nation are a 
sort of guarantee for the character of the individual. At 
any rate, if the extensive influence of this national par- 
tiality be considered as an additional tie, binding man to 
man, and calling forth the good offices of such as can 
render them to the countryman who happens to need 
them, we think it must be found to exceed, as an active 
and efficient motive to generosity, that more impartial 
and wider principle of general benevolence, which we 
have sometimes seen pleaded as an excuse for assisting 
no individual whatever. 

Mrs Bickerton, lady of the ascendant of the Seven 
Stars, in the Castle-gate, York, was deeply infected with 
the unfortunate prejudices of her country. Indeed, she 
displayed so much kindness to Jeanie Deans, (because, 
she herself, being a Merse woman, inarched with Mid- 
Lothian, in which Jeanie was born,) shewed such 
motherly regard to her, and such anxiety for her farther 
progress, that Jeanie thought herself safe, though by 
temper sufficiently cautious, in communicating her whole 
story to her. 

Mrs Bickerton raised her hands and eyes at the recital, 
and exhibited much wonder and pity. But she also gave 
some effectual good advice. 

She required to know the strength of Jeanie's purse, 
reduced, by her depclt at Libberton, and the necessary 
expence of her journey, to about fifteen pounds. '' This," 
she said, " would do very well, providing she could carry 
it a' safe to London." 

" Safe?" answered Jeanie; '-' I'se w^arrant my carry- 
ing ii safe, bating the needful expences." 

" Ay, but highwaymen, lassie," said Mrs Bickerton; 
*' for ye are come into a more civilized, that is to say, a 
more dangerous country than the north, and how ye are 
to g< . forward, I do not profess to know. If je could 
wail iiere eight days, our waggons would go up, and I 
would recommend you to Joe Broadwheel, who would 



sa Tales of My Landlord. 

see you safe to the Swan and two Necks. And dimui 
sneeze at Joe, if he should be for drawing up wi' you," 
(continued Mrs Bickerton, her acquired English ming- 
ling with her national and original dialect,) " he's a 
handy boy, and a wanter, and no lad better thought o' on 
the road; and the English make good husbands enough, 
witness my poor man, Moses Bickerton, as is i' the kirk- 
yard." 

Jeanie hastened to say, that she could not possibly 
wait for the setting forth of Joe Broad wheel, being in- 
ternally by no means gratified with the idea of becoming 
the object of his attention during the journey. 

'^ Aweel, lass," answered the good landlady, " then 
thou must pickle in thine ain poke -nook, and buckle 
thine girdle thine ain gate. But take my advice, and 
hide thy gold in thy stays, and keep a piece or two and 
some silver, in case thou be'st spoke withal; for there's 
as wud lads haunt within a day's walk from hence, as on 
the Braes of Doun in Perthshire.^ And, lass, thou 
maanna gang staring through Lunnon, asking wha kens 
Mrs Glass at the sign o' the Thistle; marry, they would 
laugh thee to scorn. But gang thou to this honest man," 
and she put a direction into Jeanie's hand, *•' he kens 
maist part of the sponsible Scottish folks in the city, 
and he will find out your friend for thee." 

Jeanie look the little introductory letter with sincere 
thanks; but, something alarmed on the subject of the 
highway robbers, her mind recurred to what Ratcliffe 
had mentioned to her, and briefly relating the circum- 
stances which placed a document so extraordinary in her 
hands, she put the paper he had given her into the hand 
of Mrs Bickerton. 

The Lady of the Seven Stars did not, indeed, ring a 
bell, because such wms not the fashion of the time, but 
she whistled on a silver-call, which was hung by her 
side, and a tight serving-maiden entered the room, 

" Tell Dick Ostler to come here," said Mrs Bickerton. 

Dick Ostler accordingly made his appearance;- 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. 37 

queer, knowing, shambling animal, with a hatchet-face, 
asquint, a game-arm, and a limp. 

" Dick Ostler," said Mrs Bickerton, in a tone of au- 
thority that showed she was (at least by adoption) York- 
shire too, " thou knowest most people and most things 
o' the road." 

" Eye, eye, God help me, mistress," said Dick, shrug- 
ging his shoulders betwixt a repentant and a knowing 
expression — " Eye! I ha' know'd a thing or twa i' ma 
day, mistress." He looked sharp and laughed — looked 
grave and sighed, as one who was prepared to take the 
matter eithei* way. 

" Ken'st thou this wee bit paper amangthe rest, man?" 
said Mrs Bickerton, handing him the protection which 
Ratcliffe had given Jeanie Deans. 

When Dick had looked at the paper, he winked with 
one eye, extended his grotesque mouth from ear to ear, 
like a navigable canal, scratched his head powerfully, 
and then said, " Ken? — ay — maybe we ken summat, an' 
it werena for harm to him, mistress?" 

" None in the world," said Mrs Bickerton; "only a 
dram of Hollands to thyself, man, an' thou will't speak." 

" Why then," said Dick, giving the head-band of his 
breeches a knowing hoist with one hand, and kicking out 
one foot behind him to accommodate the adjustment of 
that important habiliment, " I dares to say the pass wiii 
be kenn'd weel aneugh on the road, an that be all." 

" But what sort of a lad was he?" said Mrs Bicker- 
ton, winking to Jeanie, as proud of her knowing ostler. 

" Why, what ken I? — Jim the Rat — why he was 
Cock o' the North within this twelmonth — he and Scotch 
Wilson, Handie Dandie, as they called him — but he's 
been out o' this country a while, as I rackon; but ony 
gentleman, as keeps the road o' this side Stamford, will 
respect Jim's pass." 

Without asking farther questions, the landlady filled 
Dick Ostler a bumper of Hollands. He ducked with 
his head and shoulders, scraped with his more advanced 

VOL. n. D 



SS Tales of My Landlord. 

hoof, bolted the alcohol, to use the learned phrase, and 
withdrew to his own domains. 

" I would advise thee, Jeanie," said Mrs Bickerton, 
" an thou meetest with ugly customers o' the road, to 
show them this bit paper, for it will serve thee, assure 
thyself." 

A neat little supper concluded the evening. The ex- 
ported Scotswoman, Mrs Bickerton by name, eat heartily 
of one or two seasoned dishes, drank some sound old 
ale, and a glass of stiff negus; while she gave Jeanie a 
history of her gout, admiring how it was possible that 
she, whose fathers and mothers for many generations had 
been farmers in Lammer-muir, could have come by a 
disorder so totally unknown to them. Jeanie did not 
chuse to offend her friendly landlady, by speaking her 
mind on the probable origin of this complaint, but she 
thought on the flesh-pots of Egypt, and in spite of all 
entreaties to better fare, made her evening meal upon 
vegetables, with a glass of fair water. 

Mrs Bickerton assured her, that the acceptance of any 
reckoning was entirely out of the question, furnished 
her with credentials to her correspondent in London, 
and to several inns upon the road where she had some 
influence or interest, reminded her of the precautions she 
should adopt for concealing her money, and as she was 
to depart early in the morning, took leave of her very 
affectionately, taking her word that she would visit her 
on her return to Scotland, and tell her how she had 
managed, and that smnmum honum for a gossip, " all 
how and about it." This Jeanie faithfully promised. 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. 39 



CHAPTER IV. 

And Need and Misery, Vice and Danger, bind. 
In sad alliance, each degraded mind. 

As our traveller set out early on the ensuhig morn- 
ing to prosecute her journey, and was in the act of leav- 
ing the inn-yard, Dick Ostler, who either had risen early 
or neglected to go to bed, either circumstance being 
equally incident to his calling, hollo'ed out after her, 
— " The top of the morning to you, Moggie. Have a 
care o' Gunners'bury Hill, young one. Robin Hood's 
dead and gwone, but there be takers yet in the vale of 
Bever." Jeanie looked at him as if to request a further 
explanation, but, with a leer, a shuffle, and a shrug, 
inimitable, (unless by Emmery,) Dick turned again to the 
raw-boned steed, which he was currying, and sung as he 
employed the comb and brush, — 

" Robin Hood was a yeoman right good. 

And his bow was of trusty yew ; 
And if Robin said stand on the King's lea-land. 

Pray, why should not we say so too ?" 

Jeanie pursued her journey without further enquiry, 
for there was nothing in Dick's manner that inclined her 
to prolong their conference. A painful day's journey 
brought her to Ferrybridge, the best inn, then and since, 
upon the great northern road; and an introduction from 
Mrs. Bickerton, added to her own simple and quiet 
manners, so propitiated the landlady of the Swan in her 
favour, that the good dame procured her the convenient 
accommodation of a pillion and post-horse then return- 
ing to Tuxford, so that she accomplished, upon the se- 
cond day after leaving York, the longest journey she 
had yet made. She was a good de^I fatigued by a mode 



40 Tales of My Landlord. 

of travelling to which she was less accustomed than to 
walking, and it was considerably later than usual on the 
ensuHig morning that she felt herself able to resume her 
pilgrimage. At noon the hundred-armed Trent, and 
the biackened ruins of Newark Castle, demolished in 
the great civil war, lay before her. It may easily be 
supposed, that Jeanie had no curiosity to make antiqua- 
rian researches, but, entering the town, w^ent straight to 
the inn to which she had been directed at Ferrybridge. 
While she procured some refreshment, she observed 
the girl, who brought it to her, looked at her several 
times with fixed and peculiar attention, and at last, to 
her infinite surprise, enquired if her name was not 
Deans, and if she was not a Scotchwoman, going to 
London upon justice business. Jeanie, with all her 
simplicity of character, had some of the caution of her 
country, and, according to Scottish universal custom, 
she answered the question by another, requesting the 
girl would tell her why she asked these questions? 

The Maritornes of the Saracen's Head, Newark, 
replied, " Two women had passed that morning, who 
had made enquiries after one Jeanie Deans, travelling to 
London on such an errand, and could scarce be persuad- 
ed that she had not passed on." 

Much surprised, and somewhat alarmed, (for what Is 
inexplicable is usually alarming,) Jeanie questioned the 
wench about the particular appearance of these two wo- 
men, but could only learn that the one was aged, and the 
other young; that the latter was the taller, and that the 
former spoke most, and seemed to maintain an authori- 
ty over her companion, and that both spoke with the 
Scottish accent. 

This conveyed no information whatever, and with an 
indescribable presentiment of evil designed towards her, 
Jeanie adopted the resolution of taking post-horses for the 
next stage. In this, however, she could not be gratified; 
some accidental circumstances had occasioned what is 
called a run upon the road, and the landlord could not ac- 
commodate her with a guide and horses, After waiting 



T%e Heart of Mid-Lothian. 41 

some time, in hopes that a pair of horses that had gone 
southward would return in time for her use, she at length, 
feeling ashamed of her own pusillanimity, resolved to 
prosecute her journey in her usual manner, 

" It was all plain road," she was assured, " except a 
high mountain called Gunners'-bury Hill, about three 
miles from Grantham, which was her stage for the 
night." 

" I'm glad to hear there's a hill," said Jeanie, " for 
baith my sight and my very feet are weary o' sic tracks 
o' level ground — it looks a' the way between this and 
York as if a' the land had been trenched and levelled, 
whilk is very wearisome to my Scots een. When I 
lost sight of a muckle blue hill they ca' Ingleboro', I 
thought I hadna a friend left in this strange land." 

" As for the matter of that, young woman," said mine 
host, " an' you be so fond o' hill, I carena an' thou 
could'st carry Gunners'bury away with thee in thy lap, 
for it's a murther to post-horses. But here's to thy 
journey, and may'st thou win well through it, for thou is 
a bold and a canny lass." 

So saying, he took a powerful pull at a solemn tankard 
of home-brewed ale. 

" I hope there is nae bad company on the road, sir .^" 
said Jeanie. 

" Why, when it's clean without them I'll thatch Groby 
poolwi' pancakes. But there arena sae mony now; and 
since they hae lost Jim the Rat, they hold together no bet- 
ter than the men of Marsham when they lost their com- 
mon. Take a drop ere. thou goest," he concluded, offer- 
ing her the tankard; "thou wilt get naething at night 
save Grantham gruel, nine grots, and a gallon of water." 

Jeanie courteously declined the tankard, and enquired 
what was her '' lawing .'*" 

. " Thy lawing ? Heaven help thee, wench, what ca'st 
thou that ? 

" It is — I was wanting to ken what was to pay," re- 
plied Jeanie. 

" Pay ^ Lord help thee ! — why nought, woman — we 
D 2 



42 Tales of My Landlord. 

liae drawn no liquor but a gill o' beer, and the Saracen's 
Head can spare a mouthful o' meat to a stranger like o' 
thee, that cannot speak Christian language. So here's 
to thee once more. The same again, quoth Mark of 
Belgrave," and he took another profound pull at the 
tankard. 

The travellers who have visited Newark more lately, 
will not fail to remember the remarkable civil and gentle- 
manly manners of the person who now keeps the princi- 
pal inn there, and may find some amusement in contrast- 
ing them with those of his more rough predecessor. But 
we believe it will be found that the polish has worn off 
none of the real worth of the metal. 

Taking leave of her Lincolnshire Gains, Jeanie resum- 
ed her solitary walk, and was somewhat alarmed when 
evening and twilight overtook her in the open ground 
which extends to the foot of Gunners'bury Hill, and is 
intersected with patches of copse and with swampy spots. 
The extensive commons on the north road, most of which 
are now enclosed, and in general a relaxed state of police, 
exposed the traveller to a highway robbery in a degree 
which is now unknown, excepting in the immediate vi- 
cinity of the metropolis. Aware of this circumstance, 
Jeanie mended her pace when she heard the trampling of 
ahorse behind, and instinctively drew to one side of the 
rpad, as if to allow as much room for the rider to pass as 
might be possible. When the animal came up, she 
found that it was bearing two women, the one placed on 
a side-saddle, the other on a pillion behind her, as may 
be «'«n occasionally seen in England. 

" A braw gude night to ye, Jeanie Deans," said the 
foremost female as the horse passed our heroine. '^ What 
think ye o' yon bonnie hill yonder, lifting its brow to 
the moon ? Tcow ye yon's the gate to Heaven, that ye 
are sae fain of ? — maybe we will win there the night yet, 
God sain us, though our minnie here's rather driegh in 
the upgang." 

The speaker kept changing her seat in the saddle, and 
Jjalf-slopping the horse, as she brought her body roiuid? 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. 4S 

while the woman that sate behind her on the pillion seem- 
ed to urge her on in words which Jeanie heard but im- 
perfectly. 

" Haud your tongue, ye moon-raised b ^ what 

is your business with or with heaven or hell 

either ?" 

" Troth, mither, no muckle wi' heaven, I doubt, con- 
sidering wha I carry ahint me — and as for hell, it will 
fight its ain battle at its ain time, Pse be bound. — Come, 
n aggie, trot awa, man, an as thou wert a broomstick, for 
witch rides thee — 

* with my crutch on my foot, and my shoe on my hand, 

I g-lance like the wildfire through brugh and through land." 

The tramp of the horse, and the increasing distance, 
drowned the rest of her song, but Jeanie heard for some 
time the inarticulate sounds ring along the waste. 

Our pilgrim remained stupified with undefined ap- 
prehensions. The being named by her name in so wild 
a manner, and in a strange country, without further ex- 
planation or communing, by a person who thus strangely 
flitted forward and disappeared before her, came near to 
the supernatural sounds in Comus : — 

*' The airy tongues, which syllable men's names 
On sands, on shores, and desert wildernesses." 



And although widely different in features, deportment, and 
rank, from the lady of that enchanting masque, the con- 
tinuation of the passage may be happily applied to Jeanie 
Deans upon this singular alarm : 

" These thoughts may startle well, but not astound 
The virtuous mind, that ever walks attended 
By a strong siding champion — Conscience." 

In fact, it was with the recollection of the affectionate 
and dutiful errand on whieh she was engaged, her right, 
if such a word could be applicable, to expect protection 



44 Tales of My Landlord. 

in a task so meritorious. She had not advanced muct 
farther, with a mind calmed by these reflections, when 
she was disturbed by a new and more instant subject 
of terror. Two men, who had been lurking among some 
copse, started up as she advanced, and met her on the 
road in a menacing manner. " Stand and deliver," said 
one of them, a short stout fellow, in a smock-frock, such 
as are worn by waggoners. 

" The woman," said the other, a tall thin figure, " does 
not understand the words of action. — Your money, my 
precious, or your life." 

'' I have but very little money, gentlemen," said poor 
Jeanie, tendering that portion which she had separated 
from her principal stock, and kept apart for such an 
emergency; " but if you are resolved to have it, to be sure 
you must have it." 

'•'■ This won't do, my girl. D n me, if it shall 

pass," said the shorter ruffian; "do ye think gentlemen 
are to hazard their lives on the road to be cheated in 
this way? We'll have every farthing you have got, or 
we will strip you to the skin, curse me." 

His companion, who seemed to have some thing like 
compassion for the horror which Jeanie's countenance now 
expressed, said, '^No, no, Tom, this is one of the precious 
sisters, and we'll take her word, for once, without putting 
her to the stripping proof — Hark ye, my lass, if you'll 
look up to Heaven, and say, this is the last penny you 
have about ye, why, hang it, we'll let you pass." 

" I am not free," answered Jeanie, " to say what I 
have about me, gentlemen, for there's life and death de- 
pends on my journey; but if you leave me as much as finds 
me in bread and water, I'll be satisfied, and thank you, 
and pray for you." 

" D — n your prayers," said the shorter fellow, " that's 
a coin that won't pass with us;" and at the same 
time made a motion to seize her. 

"Stay, gentlemen," Ratcliffe's pass suddenly occurring 
to her; " perhaps you know this paper." 

"What devil is she after fioW; Frank?" said tlie 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. 45 

more savage ruffian — " Do you look at it, for, d-^n 
me, if I could read it, if it were for the benefit of my 
clergy." 

" This is a jark from Jim Ratcliife," said the taller, 
having looked at the bit of paper. " The wench must 
pass by our cutter's law." 

" I say no," answered his companion. " Rat has left 
the lay and turned bloodhound, they say." 

" We may need a good turn from him all the same," 
said the taller ruffian again. 

"But what are we to do then?" said the shorter man. 
— " We promised, you know, to strip the wench, and 
send her begging back to her own beggarly country, 
and now you are for letting her go on." 

" I did not say that," said the other fellow, and 
whispered to his companion, who replied, "Be alive 
about it then, and don't keep chattering till some tra- 
vellers come up to nab us." 

" You must follow us off the road, young woman," 
said the taller. 

"For the love of God!" exclaimed Jeanie, " as ye 
were born of woman, dinna ask me to leave the road; 
rather take all 1 have in the world." 

" What the devil is the wench afraid of ?" said the 
other fellow. " I tell you you shall come to no harm; but 
if you will not leave the road and come with us, d — n 
me, but I'll beat your brains out where you stand." 

" Thou art a rough bear, Tom," said his companion. — 
" An' ye touch her, I'll give ye a shake by the collar shall 
make the Leicester beans rattle in thy guts. — Never 
mind him, girl, I will not allow him to lay a finger on 
you, if you walk quietly on with us; but if you keep 
jabbering there, d — n me, but I'll leave him to settle it 
with you." 

This threat conveyed all that is terrible to the imagina- 
tion of poor Jeanie, who saw in him that " was of milder 
mood" her only protection from the most brutal treat- 
ment. She, therefore, not only followed him, but even 
held him by the sleeve, lest he should escape from her: 



46 Tales of My Landlord. 

and the fellow, hardened as he was, seemed something 
touched by those marks of confidence, and repeatedly 
assured her, thai he would suffer her to receive no harm. 

They conducted their prisoner in a direction leading 
more and more from the public road, but she observed 
that they kept a sort of track or bye-paih, which relieved 
her from part of her apprehensions, which would have 
been greatly increased had they not seemed to follow a 
determined and ascertained route. After about half an 
hour's walking, all three in profound silence, they ap-» 
proached an old barn, which stood on the edge of some 
cultivated ground, but remote from every thing like a ha- 
bitation. It was itself, however, tenanted, for there was 
light in the windows. 

One of the foot-pads scratched at the door, which was 
opened by a female, and they entered with their unhappy 
prisoner. An old woman, who was preparing food by 
the assistance of a stifling fire of lighted charcoal, asked 
them, in the name of the devil, what they brought the 
wench there for, and why they did not strip her and turn 
her abroad on the common? 

" Come, come, Mother Blood," said the tall man, 
" we'll do what's right to oblige you, and we'll do no more; 
we are bad enough, but not such as you would make us — 
devils incarnate." 

" She has got a jarfc from Jim Ratcliffe," said the short 
fellow, " and Frank here won't hear of our putting her 
through the mill." 

^' No, that will I not, by G — d," answered Frank; 
" but if old Mother Blood could keep her here for a little 
while, or send her back to Scotland without hurting her, 
why, I see no harm in that — not I." 

" I'll tell you what, Frank Levitt," said the old woman, 
" if you call me Mother Blood again, I'll paint this gulley 
(and she held a knife up as if about to make good hei* 
threat,) in the best blood in your body, my bonnie boy." 

" The price of ointment must be up in the north," 
said Frank, " that puts Mother Blood so much out of 
humour," 



The Heart of jMid- Lothian. 47 

Without a moment's hesitation the fury darted her 
knife at him with the vengeful dexterity of a wild In- 
dian. As he was on his guard, he avoided the missile 
by a sudden motion of his head, but it whistled past his 
ear, and stuck in the cjay wall of a partition behind 

" Come, come, mother," said the robber, seizing her 
by both wrists, " I shall teach you who's master;" and 
so saying, he forced the hag backwards by main force, 
who strove vehemently until she sunk on a buch of straw, 
and then letting go her hands, he held up his finger to- 
w^ards her in the menacing posture by which a maniac is 
intimidated by his keeper. It appeared to produce the 
desired effect; for she did not attempt to rise from the 
seat on which he had placed her, or to resume any mea- 
sures of actual violence, but wrung her withered hands 
with impotent rage, and brayed and howled like a de- 
moniac. 

" I will keep my promise with jou, you old devil," 
said Frank; " the wench shall not go forward on the 
London road, but I will not have you touch a hair of her 
head, if it were but for your insolence." 

This intimation seemed to compose in some degree the 
vehement passion of the old hag; and while her exclama- 
tions and howls sunk into a low, maundering, growling 
tone of voice, another personage was added to this singular 
party. 

" Eh, Frank Levitt," said this new-comer, who en- 
' tered with a hop, step, and jump, which at once convey- 
ed her from the door into the centre of the parly, " were 
ye killing our mother? or were ye cutting the grunter's 
weasand that Tam brought in this morning? or have ye 
been reading your prayers backward, to bring up my auld 
acquaintance the de'il amang ye?" 

The tone of the speaker was so particular, that Jeanie 
immediately recognised the woman who had rode fore- 
most of the pair which passed her just before she met the 
^robbers; a circumstance which greatly increased her ter- 
ror, as it served to shew that the mischief designed against 
her was premeditated, though by whom, or for what 



48 Tales of My Landlord, 

cause, she was totally at a loss to conjecture. From the 
style of her conversation, the reader also may probably 
acknowledge in this female, an old acquaintance in the 
earlier part of our narrative. 

" Out, ye mad devil," said Tom, whom she had dis- 
turbed in the middle of a draught of some liquor with 
which he had found means of accommodating himself; 
" betwixt your Bess of Bedlam pranks, and your dam's 
frenzies, a man might live quieter in the devil's ken than 
here." — And he again resumed the broken jug out of 
which he had been drinking. 

" And wha's this o't?" said the mad woman, dancing 
up to Jeanie Deans, who, although in great terror, yet 
watched the scene with a resolution to let nothing pass 
unnoticed which might be serviceable in assisting her to 
escape, or informing her as to the true nature of her 
situation, and the danger attending it, — " Wha's this 
o't!" again exclaimed Madge Wildfire. "Douce Davie 
Deans, ihe auld doited whig body's daughter in a gyp- 
sey's barn, and the night setting in; this is a sight for 
sair een ! — Eh sirs, the falling off o' the godly ! — And 
the t'other sister's in the Tolbooth at Edinburgh; I am 
very sorry for her, for my share — it's my mother wusses ill 
to her, and no me — though may be I hae as muckle 
cause." 

" Hark ye, Madge," said the taller ruffian, " you 
have not such a touch of the devil's blood as the hag your 
mother, who may be his dam for what I know — ^take 
this young woman to your kennel, and do not let the 
devil enter, though he should ask in God's name." 

" Ou, ay; that 1 will, Frank," said Madge, taking ' 
hold of Jeanie by the arm, and pulling her along; " for 
it's no for decent Christian young leddies, like her and 
me, to be keeping the like o' you and Tyburn Tarn 
company at this time o' night. Sae gude e'en t'ye, 
sirs, and mony o' them; and may ye a' sleep till the 
hangman wauken ye, and then it will be vveel for the 
country." 

She, then, as her wild fancy seemed suddenly to 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. 49 

pronlpt her, walked demurely towards her mother, who, 
seated by the charcoal fire, with the reflection of the red 
light on her withered and distorted features marked by 
every evil passion, seemed the very picture of Hecate at her 
infernal rites; and suddenly dropping on her knees, said, 
vvith-the manner of a child six years old, " Mammie, hear 
me say my prayers before I go to bed, and say God bless 
my bonny face, as ye used to do lang syne." 

'' The de'il flay the hide o' it to sole his brogues wi';" 
said the old lady, aiming a buffet at the supplicant, in 
answer to her duteous request. 

The blow missed Madge, who, being probably acquaint- 
ed by experience with the mode in which her mother was 
wont to confer her maternal benedictions, slipt out of arm's 
length with great dexterity and quickness. The hag then 
started up, and, seizing a pair of old fire -tongs, would have 
amended her motion, by beating out the brains either of 
her daughter or Jeanie, (she did not seem greatly to care 
which,) when her hand was once more arrested by the man 
whom they called Frank Levitt, who, seizing her by he 
shoulder, flung her from him with great violence exclaim- 
ing, " What, Mother Damnable — again, and in my sove- 
reign presence! — Hark ye, Madge of Becllam, get to your 
hole with your play-fellow, or we shall have the devil to 
pay here, and nothing to pay him with." 

Madge took Levitt's advice, ifetreating as f?st as she could, 
and dragging Jeanie along with her into a sort of recess, 
partitioned off" from the rest of the barn, and filled wiih 
straw, from which it appeared that it was intended fo'- the 
purpose of slumber. The moon-light shone througn an 
open hole upon a pillion, a pa«k-saddle, and one or two 
wallets, the travelling furniture of Madge an*! her aminble 
mother. — " Now, oaw ye e'er in your life," said Madge, 
" sae dainty a chamber of deas? see as the mooiL' 5i}ip^es 
down sae caller on the fresh strae ! There's no a pleasant- 
er cell in Bedlam, for as braw a place as it is on the out- 
side. — Were ye ever in Bedlam.^" 

" No," answered Jeanie faintly, appalled by the ques- 
tion, and the way in which it was put, yet willing to soothe 

VOL. II. E 



50 Tales of My Landlord. 

her insane companion, being in circumstances so unhap- 
pily precarious, that even the society of this gibbering mad 
woman seemed a species of protection. 

"Never in Bedlam!" said Madge, as if with some 
surprise,—" But ye'll hae been in the cells at Edinburgh?" 
"Never," repeated Jeanie. 

" Wee), I think thae daft carles the magistrates send 
naebody to Bedlam but me — they maun hae an unco re- 
spect for me, for whenever I am brought to them, they 
aye hae me back to Bedlam. But troth, Jeanie," (she 
said this in a very confidential tone,) " to tell ye my private 
mind about it, I think ye are at nae great loss; for the 
keeper's a cross patch, and he maun hae it a' his ain gate, 
to be sure, or he makes the place waur than hell. I often 
tell him he's the daftest in a' the house. — But what are 
they making sic a skirling for? — De'il ane o' them's get in 
here — it wadna be mensefu' ! I will sit wi' my back again 
the door; it winna be that easy stirring me." 

" Madge ! — Madge ! — Madge Wildfire ! — Madge devil I 
what have ye done with the horse?" was repeatedly asked 
by the men without. 

" He's at his supper, puir thing," answered Madge; 
" de'il an ye were at yours, an it were scauding brimstane, 
and then we wad hae less o' your din." 

" His supper?" answered the more sulky ruffian — 
" What d'ye mean by that? — Tell me where he is, or I 
will knock your Bedlam brains out!" 

" He's in Gaffer Gabblewood's wheat-close, an ye maun 
ken." 

" His wheat-close, you crazed jilt!" answered the other, 
with an accent of great indignation. 

" 0, dear Tyburn Tarn, man, what ill will the 
blades of the young wheat do to the puir nag?" 

" That is not the question," said the other robber; 
"but what the coun-ry will say to us to-morrow, when 
they see him in such quarters. — Go, Tom, nnd bniig him 
in; and avoid the soft ground, my lad; leave no hoof-track 
behind you." 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. 51 

^' I think you give me always the fag of it, whatever is 
to b'" done," grumbled his companion. 

'*• Leap, Laurence, you're long enough," said the other; 
and the fellow left the barn accordingly, without farther 
remonstrance. 

In the meanwhile, Madge had arranged herself for re- 
pose on the straw; but still in a half-sitting posture, with 
her back resting against the door of the hove], which, as 
it opened inw^ards, was in this manner kept shut by the 
weight of her person. 

" There's mair shifts bye stealing, Jeanie," said Madge 
Wiidiire; ^' though whiles I can hardly get our mother to 
thiak sae. Whae wad hae thought, but mysell of making 
a bolt of my ain back-bane! But it's no sae strong as thae 
that I hae seen in the Tolbooth at Edinburgh. The ham- 
mermen of Edinburgh to my mind afore the world for ma- 
king stancheons, ring-bolts, fetter-bolts, bars, and locks. 
And they arena that bad at girdles for carcakes neither; 
though the Cu'ross hammermen have the gree for that. My 
mother had ance a bonny Cu'rossglrdle,and I thought to have 
baked carcakes on it for my puir wean that's dead and 
gane, nae fair way — but we maun a' dee, ye ken, Jeanie. 
— You Cameronian bodies ken that brawlies; and ye're for 
making a hell upon earth that ye may be less unwullin to 
part wi' it. But as touching Bedlam that ye were speak- 
ing about, I'se ne'er recommend it muckle the tae gate 
or the t'other, be it right — be it wrang. But ye ken what 
the sang says." And, pursuing the unconnected and float- 
ing wanderings of her mind, she sung aloud— 



" In the bonnie cells of Bedlam, 

Ere I was ane and twenty, 
I had hempen bracelets strong, 
And merry whips, ding-dong, 
And prayer and fasting plenty.' 



" Weel, Jeanie, I am something herse the night, and 
I canna sing muckle mair; and troth, I think, I am gaun 
to sleep." 

She drooped her head on her breast, a posture from 



52 Tales of My Landlord, 

which Jeanie, who would have given the world for an op - 
portunity of quiet to consider the means and the probabi- 
lity of her escape, was very careful not to disturb her. After 
nodding, however, for a minute or two, with her eyes half 
closed, the unquiet and restless spirit of her malady again 
assailed Madge. She raised her head, and spoke, but with 
a lowered (one, which was again gradually overcome by 
drowsiness, to which the fatigue of a day's journey on horse- 
back had probably given unwonted occasion, — "I dinna 
ken what makes me sae sleepy — I amaist never sleep till 
mj bonny Lady Moon gangs till her bed — mairby token, 
when she's at the full, ye ken, rowing ahoon us yonder in 
her grand silver coach — I have danced to her my lane 
sometimes for very joy — and whiles dead folk came and 
danced wi' me — the like o' Jock Porteous, or ony body I 
had kenn'd when I was living — for ye maun ken I was 
ance dead mysell." Here the poor maniac sung, in a low 
and wild-tone, 

" My banes are buried in yon kirk -yard 

Sae far ayont the sea, 
And it is but my blithsome gbaist 

That's speaking- now to thee." 

" But after a', Jeanie, my woman, naebody kens weel 
wha's living and wha's dead — or wha's gane to Fairyland 
— there's another question. Whiles I think my puir 
bairn's dead — ye ken very weel it's buried— but that signi- 
fies naething. I have had it on my knee a hundred times, 
and a hundred till that, since it was buried— rand how could 
that be were it dead, ye ken — it's merely impossible." — 
And here, some conviction half-overcoming the reveries of 
her imagination, she burst into a fit of crying and ejacula- 
tion, *■' Waes me! waes me! waes me!" till at length she 
moaned and sobbed herself into a deep sleep, which was 
soon in'.imated by hfcr breatliing hard, leaving Jeanie to her 
own melancholy reflections- and observations. 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian^ 53 



CHAPTER V, 



Bind her quickly ; or, by this steel, 
ril tell, although 1 truss for company. 

FiETCHEa. 



The imperfect light which shone into the window, 
enabled Jeanie to see that there was scarcely any chance 
of. making her escape in that direction, for the aperture 
was high in the wall, and so narrow, that, could she have 
climbed up to it, she might wd\ doubt whether it would 
have permitted her to pass her body through it. An un- 
successful attempt to escape would be sure to draw down 
worse treatment than she now received, and she, there- 
fore, resolved to watch her opportunity carefully ere mak- 
ing such a perilous effort. For this purpose she applied 
herself to the ruinous clay partition, which divided the 
hovel in which she now was from the rest of the waste 
barn. It was decayed and full of cracks and chinks, one 
of which she enlarged with her fingers, cautiously and 
without noise, until she could obtain a plain view of the 
old hag and the taller n.ffian, whom they called Levitt, 
seated'together beside the decayed fire of charcoal, and 
apparently engaged in close conference. She was at 
first terrified by the sight, for the features of the old wo- 
man had a hideous cast of hardened and inveterate ma- 
lice and ill humour, and those of the man, though natu- 
rally less unfavourable, were such as corresponded well 
with licentious habits, and a lawless profession. 

'> But I remembered," said Jeanie, " my worthy fa- 
ther's tales of a winter evening, how he was confined 
with the blessed martyr Mr James Ren wick, who lifted 
up the fallen standard of the true reformed Kirk of Scot- 
land, after the worthy and renowned Daniel Cameron, 
our last blessed banner man, had fallen among the swords 
cf the wicked at Aird-moss, and how the verv hearts of 
e2 



54 Tales of My Landlord. 

the wicked malefactors and murtherers, whom they were 
confined withal, were melted like wax at the sound of 
their doctrine : and I bethought mysell, that the same help 
that was wi' them in their strait, wad be wi' me in mine, 
an' I could but watch the Lord's time and opportunity for 
delivering my feet from their snare ; and I minded the 
Scripture of the blessed Psalmist, whilk he insisteth on, 
as weel in the forty-second as in the forty-third Psalm, 
^ Why art thou cast down, O my soul, and why art thou 
disquieted w'''jin me? Hope in God, for I shall yet praise 
Him, who i'. the health of my countenance, and my God.' " 

Strengthened in a mind naturally calm, sedate, and firm, 
by the influence of religious confidence, this poor captive 
was enabled to attend to, and comprehend, a great part of 
an interesting conversation which passed betwixt those 
into whose hands she had fallen, notwithstanding that 
their meaning was partly disguised by the occasional use 
of cant terms, of which Jeanie knew not the import, by 
the low tone in which fhey spoke, and by their mode of 
supplying their broken phrases by shrugs and signs, as is 
Tusual amongst those of their disorderly profession. 

The man opened the conversation by saying, " Now, 
dame, you see I am true to my friend. I have not forgot 
that you planked a chu7'y* which helped me through the 
bars of the Castle of York, and I came to do your work 
without asking questions, for one good turn deserves ano- 
ther. But now that Madge, who is as loud as Tom of 
Lincoln, is somewhat still, and this same Tyburn Neddie 
is shaking his heels after the old nag, why you must tell 
xne what all this is about, and what's to be done; ford — n 
me, if I touch the girl, or let her be touched, and she with 
Jim Rat's pass too." 

" Thou art an honest lad, Frank," answered the old 
woman, '■'- but e'en too kind for thy trade; thy tender heart 
will get thee into trouble. I will see ye gang up Holbourn 
Hill backward, and a' on the word of some silly loon that 

* Concealed a knife. 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian, 65 

could never hae rapped to ye had ye drawn your knife 
across his weasand." 

'' You may be baulked there, old one," answered the 
robber; ••' I have known many a preiiy lad cut short in his 
first summer upon the road, because he was something 
hasty with his tiats and sharps. Besides, a man would 
would tain live out his two years with a good conscience. 
So, tell me what all this is about, and what's to be done for 
you that one can do decently." 

" Why, you must know, Frank — but first taste a snap 
of right Hollands." She drew a flask from her pocket, 
and filled the fellow a large bumper, which he pronounced 
to be the right thing. — '' You must know then, Frank— 
wunna ye mend your hand?" again offering the flask. 

"• No, no — when a woman wants mischief from you, she 
always begins by filling you drunk. D — n all Dutch 
courage. — What I do I will do soberly — Pll last the 
longer for that too." 

" Well, then, you must know," resumed the old woman, 
without any farther attempts at propitiation, " that this 
girl is going to London." 

Here Jeanie could only distinguish the word sister. 

The robber answered in a louder tone, " Fair enough 
that; and what the devil is your business with it?" 

" Business enough, I think If the b — queers the 
noose, that silly cull will marry her." 

" And who cares if he does?" said the man. 

" Who cares, ye donnard Neddie? I care; and I will 
strangle her with my own hands, rather than she should 
come to Madge's preferment." 

" Madge's preferment! Does your old blind eyes see no 
farther than that? If he is as you say, (\y''e think he'll 
ever marry a moon-calf like Madge? Ecod, that's a good 
one — Mary Madge Wildfire!" 

" Hark ye, ye crack-rope padder, born beggar and 
bred thief! suppose he never marries the wench, is that 
a reason he should marry another, and that other 'o hold 
my daughter's place, and she crazed, and I a beggar, and 
all along of him? But I know that of him will hang him — I 



56 Tales of My Landlord. 

know that of him will hang him, if he had a thousand 
lives — I know that of him will hang — hang — hang him!" 

She grinned as she repeated and dwelt upon the fatal 
monosyilahle, with the emphasis of a vindictive fiend. 

" Then why don't you hang — hang — hang him?" said 
Frank, repeating her words contemptuously. " There 
would be more sense in that, than in wreaking yourself 
here upon two wenches that have done you and your 
daughter no ill." 

'' No ill?" answered the old woman — " and he to 
marry this jail-bird, if ever she gets her foot loose!" 

" But as there is no chance of his marrying a bird of 
your brood, I cannot, for my soul, see what you have to 
do with all this," again replied the robber, shrugging his 
shoulders. '' Where there is ought to be got, Pil go as 
far as my neighbours, but I hate mischief for mischief's 
sake." 

'■'- And would you go nae length for revenge?" said the 
hag — " for revenge, the sweetest morsel to the mouth that 
ever was cooked in hell !" 

" The devil may keep it for his own eating, then," said 
the robber; '' for hang me if I like the sauce he dresses 
it with." 

" Revenge!" continued the old woman; " why it is 
the best reward the devil gives us for our time here and 
hereafter. I have wrought hard for it — I have suffered 
for it, and I have sinned for it — and I will have it, — or 
there is neither justice in heaven nor in hell !" 

Levitt had by this time lighted a pipe, and was listen- 
ing with great composure to the frantic and vindictive 
ravings of the old hag. He was too much hardened by 
his course of life to be shocked with them — too indif- 
ferent, and probably too stupid, to catch any part of their 
animation or energy. " But, mother," he said, after a 
pause, " still I say, that if revenge is your wish, you 
should take it on the young fellow himself" 

" I wish I could," she said, drawing in her breath, 
with the eagerness of a thirsty person while mimicking 



The Heart of Mid ■Lothian. 57 

the action of drinking — " I wish I could — but no — I can- 
not — I cannot." 

" And why not? — You would think little of peaching 
and hanging him for this Scotch affair. — Rat me, one 
might have milled the Bank of England, and less noise 
about it." 

" I have nursed him at this withered breast," answered 
the old woman, folding her hands on her bosom, as if 
pressing an infant to it, " and though he has proved an 
adder to me — though he has been the destruction of me 
and mine — though he has made me company for the devil, 
if there be a devil, and food for hell, if there be such a 
place, yet I cannot take his life — No, I cannot," she con- 
tinued with an appearance of rage against herself ; " I 
have thought of it — I have tried it — but, Francis Levitt, 
I canna gang through wi't! — Na, na — he was the first 
bairn I ever nurst — ill I had been — and man can never 
ken w^hat woman feels for the bairn she has held first to 
her bosom." 

" To be sure," said Levitt, "we have no experience; 
but, mother, they say you ha'nt been so kind to other 
bairns as you call them, that have come in your way. — 
Nay, d — n me, never lay your hand on the whittle, for I 
am'captain and leader here, and I will have no rebellion." 

The hag, whose first motion had been, upon hearing 
the question, to grasp the haft of a large knife, now un- 
closed her hand, stole it away from the weapon, and suf- 
fered it to fall by her side, while she proceeded with a 
sort of smile — "Bairns! ye are joking, lad, wha wad 
touch bairns? Madge, puir thing, had a misfortune wi' 
ane — and the t'other" — Here her voice sunk so much, 
that Jeanie, though anxiously upon the watch, could not 
catch a word she said, until she raised her tone at the 
conclusion of the sentence — " So Madge, in her daffin', 
threw it into the Nor'-Loch, I trow." 

Madge, whose slumbers, like those of most who labour 
under mental malady, had been short and wcrf^ easily 
broken, now made herself heard from her place of repose. 



58 Tales of My Landlord. 

" Indeed, mother, that's a great lie, for I did nae sic 
thing." 

" Hush, thou hellicat devil," said her mother — " By 
Heaven! the other wench will be waking too." 

" That may be dangerous," said Frank, and he rose 
and followed Meg Murdockson across the floor. 

'• Rise," said the hag to her daughter, " or I sail drive 
the knife between the planks into the Bedlam-back of 
thee!" 

Apparently she at the same time seconded her threat, 
by pricking her with the point of a knife, for Madge, 
with a faint scream, changed her place, and the door 
opened. 

The old woman held a candle in one hand, and a knife 
in the other. Levitt appeared behind her; whether with 
a view of preventing, or assisting her in any violence she 
might meditate, could not be well guessed. Jeanie's pre- 
sence of mind stood her friend in this dreadful crisis. 
She had resolution enough to maintain the attitude and 
manner of one who sleeps profoundly, and to regulate 
even her breathing, notwithstanding the agitation of in- 
stant terror, so as to correspond with her attitude. 

The old woman passed the light across her eyes; and 
although Jeanie's fears were so powerfully awakened by 
this movement, that she often declared afterwards, that 
she thought she saw the figures of her destined murderers 
through her closed eyelids, she had still the resolution to 
maintain the feint on which her safety, perhaps, depended. 

Levitt looked at her with fixed attention; he then 
turned the old woman out of the place, and followed her 
himself. Having regained the outer apartment, and seat- 
ed themselves, Jeanie heard the highwayman say, to her 
no small relief, " She's as fiist as if she were in Bedford- 
shire. — Now, old Meg, d — n me, if I can understand a 
glim of this story of yours, or what good it will do you to 
hang the one wench, and torment the other; but, rat ye, I 
wiil be true to my friend, and serve ye the way ye like 
it. I see it will be a bad job; but I do think I could get 
her down to Surfleet on the Wash, and so on board Tom 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. . 69 

Moonshine's neat lugger, and keep her out of the way 
three or four weeks, if that will please ye? — But, d — n 
me, if any one shall harm her, unless they have a mind 
to choke on a brace of blue plums. — It's a cruel bad job, 
and I wish you and it, Meg, were both at the devil." 

" Never mind, hinny Levitt,"said the old woman; " you 
are a ruffler, and will have a' your ain gate — She shanna 
gang to heaven an hour sooner for me; I carena whether 
she live or die — it's her sister — ay, her sister!" 

" Well, we'll say no more about it, I hear Tom coming 
in. We'll couch a hogshead,"^ and so better had you." 
They retired to repose, accordingly, and all was silent in 
this asylum of iniquity. 

Jeanie lay for a long time awake. At break of day she 
heard the two ruffians leave the barn, after whispering 
with the old woman for some time. The sense that she 
was now guarded only by persons of her own sex, gave 
her some confidence, and irresistible lassitude at length 
threw her into slumber. 

When the captive awakened, the sun was high in hea- 
ven, and the morning considerably advanced. Madge 
Wildfire was still in the hovel which had served them for 
the night, and immediately bid her good morning, with 
her usual air of insane glee. "• And d'ye ken, lass," 
said Madge, " there's queer things chanced since ye hae 
been in the land of Nod. The constables hae been here, 
woman, and they met wi' my minnie at the door, and 
they whirled her awa to the justice's about the man's 
wheat. — Dear! thae English churles think as muckle about 
a blade of wheat or grass, as a Scots laird does about his 
maukins and his muirpoots. Now, lass, if ye like, we'll 
play them a fine jink; we will awa' out and take a walk — 
they will make unco work when they miss us, but w< can 
easily be back by dinner time, or before dark night a> ony 
rate, and it will be some frolic and fresh air. — But maybe 
ye wad like to take some breakfast, and then lie down 
again; I ken by mysell, there's whiles I can sitwi'my 

* Lay ourselves down to sleep. 



i 



60 Tales of My Landlord, 

head on my hand the hale day, and havena a word to caiSt 
at a dog — and other whiles that I canna sit still a moment. 
That's when the folk think me warst, but I am aye canny 
enough — ye needna be feared to walk wi' me." 

Had Madge Wildfire been the most raging lunatic, in- 
stead of possessing a doubtful, uncertain, and twilight sort 
of rationality, varying, probably, from the influence of the 
most trivial causes, Jeanie would hardly have objected to 
leave a place of captivity where she had so much to ap- 
prehend. She eagerly assured Madge that she had no 
occasion for farther sleep, no desire whatever for eating; 
and hoping internally that she was not guilty of sin in 
doing so, she flattered her keeper's crazy humour for walk- 
ing in the woods. 

'^It's no a'thegether for that neither," said poor Madge; 
^' but I am judging ye will wun the better out o' thae folk's 
hands; no that they are a' thegitlier bad folks neither, but 
they have queer ways wi' them, and I whiles dinna think 
it has been ever very weel wi' my mother and me since we 
kept sic like company." 

With the haste, the joy, the fear, and the hope of a li- 
berated captive, Jeanie snatched up her little bundle, fol- 
lowed Madge into the free air, and eagerly looked round 
her for a human habitation; but none was to be seen. 
The ground was partly cultivated, and partly left in its na- 
tural state, according as the fancy of the slovenly agricul- 
turists had decided. In its natural state it was waste, in 
some places covered with dwarf trees and bushes, in others 
swamp, and elsewhere firm and dry downs or pasture 
grounds. 

Jeanie's active mind next led her to conjecture which 
way the high road lay, whence she had been forced. If 
she regained that public road, she imagined she must soon 
meet some person, or arrive at some house, where she 
might tell her story, and request protection. But after a 
glance around her, she saw with regret that she had no 
means whatever of directing her course with any degree 
of certainty, and that she was still in dependence upon her 
crazy companion. " Shall we not walk upon the high 



"Fhe Heart of Mid- Lothian. " 61 

|{oad?" said she to Madge, in such a tone as a nurse uses 
to coax a child. "It's brawer walking on the road than 
amang thae wild bushes and whins." 

Madge, who was walking very fast, stopped at this 
question, and looked at Jeanie with a sudden and scruti- 
nizing glance that seemed to indicate complete acquaint- 
ance with her purpose. "Aha, lass!" she exclaimed, 
" are ye gaun to guide us that gate? — Ye'll be for making 
your heels save your head, I am judging." 

Jeanie hesitated for a moment, at hearing her compa- 
nion thus express herself, whether she had not better take 
the hini, and try to outstrip and get rid of her. But she 
knew not in which direction to fly; she was by no means 
sure that she would prove the swiftest, and perfectly con- 
scious that, in the event of her being pursued and overtak- 
en, she would be inferior to the mad woman in strength. 
She therefore gave up thoughts for the present of attempt- 
ing to escape in that manner, and saying a few words to 
allay Madge's suspicions, she followed in anxious appre- 
hension the wayward path by which her guide thought 
proper to lead her. Madge, infirm oT purpose, and easily 
reconciled to the present scene, whatever it: was, began 
soon to talk with her usual diffuseness of ideas. 

" It's a dainty thing to be in the woods on a fine morn- 
ing like this — I like it far better than the town, for there 
isna a wheen duddie bairns to be crying after ane, as if 
ane were a warld's wonder, just because ane maybe is a 

thought bonnier and better put on than their neighbours 

though, Jeanie, ye suld never be proud o' braw claiths, or 
beauty neither — waes me! they're but a snare.— I ancs 
thought better o' them, and what came o't?" 

" Are ye sure ye ken the way ye are taking us?" said 
Jeanie, who began to imagine that she was getting deeper 
into the woods, and more remote from the high road. 

" Do I ken the road ? — Wasna I mony a day living 
here, and what for shouldna I ken the road? — I might hae 
forgotten too, for it was afore my accident; but there arc 
some things ane can never forget, let them try it as muc- 
kle as they like." 

VOL II. F 



62 Tales of My Landlord. 

By this time they had gained the deepest part of a patch 
of woodland. The trees were a little separated from each 
other, and at the foot of one of them, a beautiful poplar, 
was a hillock of moss, such as the poet of Grasmere has de- 
scribed in the motto to our chapter. So soon as she arriv- 
ed at this spot, Madge Wildfire, joining her hands above 
her head, with a loud scream that resembled laughter, flung 
herself all at once upon the spot, and remained lying there 
motionless. 

Jeanie's first ideas was to take the opportunity of flight; 
but her desire to escape yielded for a moment to apprehen- 
sion for the poor insane being, who, she thought, might 
perish for want of relief. With an effort, which, in her 
€ircumstances, might be termed heroic, she stooped down, 
spoke in a soothing tone, and endeavoured to raise up the 
forlorn creature. She effected this with difficulty, and, as 
she placed her against the tree in a sitting posture, she ob- 
served, with surprise, that her complexion, usually florid, 
was now deadly pale, and that her face was bathed in tears. 
Notwithstanding her own extreme danger, Jeanie was af- 
fected by the situation of her companion; and the rather, 
that through the whole train of her wavering and inconsist- 
ent state of mind and line of conduct, she discerned a 
general colour of kindness towards herself, for which she 
felt' gratitude. 

"Let me alane! — let me alane!" said the poor young 
woman, as her paroxysm of sorrow began to abate — " Let 
me alane — it does me good to w^eep. I canna shed tears, 
but may be anes or twice a-year, and I aye come to wet 
this turf with them, that the flowers may grow fair, and 
the grass may be green." 

"But what is the matter with you?" said Jeanie — 
" Why do you weep so bitterly.'^" 

" There's matter enow," replied the lunatic, — " mair 
than ae puir mind can bear, I trow. Stay a bit, and I'll 
tell you a' about it; for I like ye, Jeanie Deans — a' body 
spoke weel about ye when we lived in the Pleasaunts — 
And I mind aye the drink o' milk ye gae me yon day, 



Tke Heart of Mid-Loihian. 03 

when I had been on Arthur's Seat for four-and-twenty 
hours, looking for the ship that somebody was sailing in." 

These words recalled to Jeanie's recollection, that, in 
fact, she had been one morning much frightened by meet* 
ing a crazy young woman near her father's house at an 
early hour, and that as she appeared to be harmless, her 
apprehension had been changed into pity, and she had re- 
lieved the unhappy wanderer with some food, which she 
devoured with the haste of a famished person. The in- 
cident, trifling in itself, was at present of great importance, 
if it should be found to have made a favourable and per- 
manent impression in her favour on the mind of the object 
of her charity. 

" Yes," said Madge, '' I'll tell ye a' about it, for ye are 
a decent man's daughter— Douce Davie Deans, ye ken— and 
may-be ye'U can teach me to find out the narrow way, and 
the strait path, for I have been burning bricks in Egypt, 
and walking througli the weary wilderness of Sinai, for 
lang and mony a day. But whenever I think about mine 
errors, I am like to cover my lip for shame." — Here she 
looked up and smiled. — " It's a strange thing now — I hae 
spoke mair gude words to you in ten minutes, than I wad 
speak to my mother in as mony years — it's no that I dinna 
think on them — and whiles they are just at my tongue's 
end, but them comes the Devil, and brushes my lips with 
his black wing, and lays his broad black loof on my mouth 
— for a black loof it is, Jeanie — and sweeps away a' my 
gude thoughts, and dits up my gude w ords, and pits a wheen 
fule sangs and idle vanities in their place." 

" Try, Madge," said Jeanie, — " try to settle your mind, 
and make your breast clean, and you'll find your heart 
easier — Just resist the devil, and he will flee from you — 
and mind that, as my worthy father tells me, there is nae 
devil sae deceitfu' as our ain wandering thoughts." 

" And that's true too, lass," said Madge, starting up; 
" and I'll gang a gate where the devil daurna follow me; 
and it's a gate that you will like dearly to gang — but I'll keep 
a fast baud o' your arm, for fear Apollyon should stride 
ajpross the path, as he did in the Pilgrim's Progress." 



94 Tales of My Landlord. 

Accordingly she got up, and taking Jeanie by the arm. 
began to walk forward at a great pace; and soon, to her 
companion's no small joy, came into a marked path, with 
the meanders of which she seemed perfectly acquainted. 
Jeanie endeavoured to bring her back to the confessional, 
but the fancy vras gone by. In fact, the mind of this de- 
ranged being resembled nothing so much as a quantity of 
dry leaves, which may for a few minutes remain still, but 
are instantly discomposed and put in motion by the first 
casual breath of air. She had now got John Bunyan's 
jDfarable into her head, to the exclusion of every thing else, 
and on she went with great volubility. 

" Did ye never read the Pilgrim's Progress ? And you 
shall be the woman Christiana, and I will be the maiden 
Mercy, for ye ken Mercy was of the fairer countenance, 
and the more alluring than her companion — and if I had 
my little messan dog here, it would be Great Heart 
their guide, ye ken, for lie was e'en as bauld, that he wacL 
bark at ony thing twenty times his size, and that wa/ 
e'en the death of him; for he bit Corporal MacAlpine's 
heels ae morning when they were hauling me to the 
guard-house, and Corporal MacAlpine killed the bit 
faithfu' thing wi' his Lochaber axe — de'il pike the High- 
land banes o' him !" 

" fie, Madge,"" said Jeanie, "• ye should not speak 
such words." 

" It's very true," said Madge, shaking her head; 
'' but then I maunna think on my puir bit doggie Snap, 
when I saw it lying dying in the gutter. But it's just 
as weel, for it suffered baith cauld and hunger when it 
was living, and in the grave there is rest for a' things — 
rest for the doggie, and my puir bairn, and me." 

"Your bairn?" said Jeanie, conceiving that by speak- 
ing on such a topic, supposing it to be a real one, she 
could not fail to bring her companion to a more composed 
temper. 

She was mistaken, however, for Madge coloured, and 
replied with some anger, " My bairn ? ay, to be sure, my 
bairn. What for shouldna I hae a bairn, and lose, a 



T*lie Heart of Mid- Lothian, 66^ 

bairn too, as weel as your bonnie tittie, tlie Lily of St. 
Leonards ?" 

The answer struck Jeanie with some alarm, and she 
was anxious to soothe the irritation she had unwittingly 
given occasion to. " I am very sorry for your misfor- 
tune " 

" Sorry ? what wad ye be sorry for ^^ answered 
Madge. " The bairn was a blessing — that is, Jeanie, it 
wad hae been a blessing if it hadna been for my mother; 
but my mother's a queer woman. — Ye see, there was an 
auld carle wi' a bit land, and a gude clat o' siller besides, 
just the very picture of old Mr. Feeblemind, or Mr.. 
Ready-to-hait, that Great Heart delivered from Slaygood 
the giant, when he was rifling him, and about to pick 
his bones, for Slaygood was of the nature of the fltsh- 
eaters — and Great Heart killed Giant Despair too — but 
I am doubting Giant Despair's come alive again, for a^ 
the story book — I find him busy at my heart whiles." 

" Weel, and so the auld carle," said Jeanie, for sh£ 
was painfully interested in getting to the truth of Madge's 
history, which she could not but suspect was in some 
extraordinary way linked and entwined with the fate of 
her sister. She was also desirous, if possible, to engage 
her companion in some narrative which might be carried 
on in a lower tone of voice, for she was in great appre- 
hension lest the elevated notes of Madge's conversation 
should direct her mother or the robbers in search of 
them. 

" And so the auld carle," said Madge, repeating her 
words — '* I wish ye had seen him stoiting about, aff ae 
legg on to the other, wi' a kind o' dot-and-go-one sort of 
motion, as if ilk ane o' his twa legs had belanged to 
sindry folk — But Gentle George could take him off braw- 
ly — Eh as I used to laugh to see George gang hip-hop 
like him — I dinjia ken, I think I laughed heartier then 
than what I do now, though maybe no just sae muckle." 

"And. who was Gentle George ?" said Jeanie, endea- 
vouring to bring her back to her story. 

" 0, he was Geordie Robertson, ye keu, when he ws^s 
p 2 



06 7'ales of My Landlord. 

in Edinburgh; but that's no his right name neither — 

His name is But what is your business wi' his 

name ?" said she, as if upon sudden recollection. " What 
have ye to do asking other folk's names? — Have ye a 
mind I should scour my knife between your ribs, as my 
mother says r" 

As this was spoken with a menacing tone and ges- 
ture, Jeanie hastened to protest her total innocence of 
purpose in the accidental question which she had asked, 
and Madge Wildfire went on somewhat pacified. 

" Never ask folk's names, Jeanie — it's no civil — I hae 
seen half a dozen o' folk in my mother's at anes, and 
ne'er ane o' them ca'd the ither by his name; and Daddie 
Ratton says, it is the most uncivil thing may be, because 
the bail lie bodies are aye asking fashions questions, when 
ye saw sic a man, or sic a man; and if ye dinna ken their 
names, ye ken there can be nae mair speird about it." 

In what strange school, thought Jeanie to herself, has 
this poor creature been bred up, where such remote pre- 
cautions are taken against the pursuits of justice ? What 
would my father or Reuben Butler think, if I were to 
tell them there are sic folk in the world ? And to abuse 
the simplicity of this demented creature ! 0, that I were 
but safe at hame amang mine ain leal and true people ! 
and I'll bless God while I have breath, that placed me 
amongst those who live in his fear, and under the shadow 
of his wing. 

She was interrupted by the insane laugh of Madge 
Wildfire, as she saw a magpie hop across the path. 

" See there — that was the gate my auld joe used to 
cross the country, but no just sae lightly — he hadna 
wings to help his auld legs, I trow; but I behoved to have 
married him, for a' that, Jeanie, or my mother wad hae been 
the dead of me. But then came in the story of my poor 
bairn, and my mother thought he wad be deaved wi' its 
skirling, and she pat it away in below the bit bourock of 
turf yonder, just to be out o' the gate; and I think &he 
buried my best wits with it, for I have never been just 
mysell yet. And only think, Jeanie, after my mother had 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. 67 

been at a' this pains, the auld doited body Johnny Drottle 
turned up his nose, and wadna hae aught to say to mc! 
But it's little I care for him, for I have led a merry life ever 
since, and ne'er a braw gentleman looks at me but ye 
wad think he was gaun to drop off his horse for mere 
love of me. I have kenn'd some o' them put their hand 
in their pocket, and gie me as muckle as sixpence at a 
time, just for my weel-faur'd face." 

This speech gave Jeanie a dark insight into Madge's 
history. She had been courted by a wealthy suitor, whose 
addresses her mother had favoured, notwithstanding the 
objection of old age and deformity. She had been se- 
duced by some profligate, and to conceal her shame and 
promote the advantageous match she had planned, her 
mother had not hesitated to destroy the offspring of their 
intrigue. That the consequence should be the total de- 
rangement of a mind which was constitutionally unsettled 
by giddiness and vanity, was extremely natural; and 
such was, in fact, the history of Madge Wildfire's in- 
sanity. 



(>8 Tales of My Landlord. 



CHAPTER VL 



So free from danger, free from fear, 

They crossed the court — right glad they were 

Christabel. 



Pursuing the path which Madge had chosen, Jeanie 
Deans observed, to her no small delight, that marks of 
more cultivation appeared, and the thatched roofs of 
houses, with their blue smoke rising in little columns, 
were seen embosomed in a tuft of trees at some distance. 
The track led in that direction, and Jeanie, therefore, 
resolved, while Madge continued to pursue it, that she 
would ask her no questions; having had the penetration 
to observe, that by doing so she ran the risk of irritating 
her guide, or awakening suspicions, to the impressions of 
which persons in Madge's unsettled state of mind are 
particularly liable. 

Madge, therefore, uninterrupted, went on with the 
wild disjointed chat which her rambling imagination sug- 
gested; a mood in which she was much more communica- 
tive respecting her own history, and that of others, than 
when there was any attempt made, by direct queries, or 
cross examinations, to extract information on these sub- 
jects. 

" It's a queer thing," she said, " but whiles I can 
speak about the bit bairn and the rest of it, just as if it 
had been another body's, and no my ain; and whiles I 
am like to break my heart about it — Had you ever a 
bairn, Jeanie.?" 

Jeanie replied in the negative. 

" Ay; but your sister had though — and I ken what came 
o't too*." 

*' In the name of heavenly mercy," said Jeanie, forget- 
ting the line of conduct which she had hithejrto adopted. 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. 69 

'•'tell me but what became of that unfortunate babe, 

and" 

Madge stopped, looked at her gravely, and fixedly, and 
then broke into a great fit of laughing — " Aha, lass, — 
catch me if ye can — I think it's easy to gar you trow ony 
thing.— How suld I ken ony thing o' your sister's wean? 
Lasses suld hae naething to do wi' weans till they are 
married — and then a' the gossips and cummers come in and 
feast as if it were the blithest day in the warld.— They say 
maidens' bairns are weel guided. I wot that wasna true 
of your tittle's and mine; but these are sad tales to tell 
— I maun just sing a bit to keep up my heart — It's a 
sang that Gentle George made on me lang syne, when 
I went with him to Lockington wake, to see him act up- 
on a stage, in fine clothes, with the player folks. He 
might have dune waur than married me that night as he 
promised — better wed o'er the mixin* as over the moor, as 
they say in Yorkshire — he may gang farther and fare waur 
— But that's a' ane to the sang, 

* I'm Madgre of the country, I'm Madge of the town, 
And I am Madge of the lad 1 am blithest to own — 
The Lady of JBeever in diamonds may shine. 
But has not a heart half so lightsome as mine. 

I am Queen of the Wake, and I'm Lady of May, 
And I lead the blithe ring round the May-pole to-day : 
The wild-fire that flashes so fair and so free 
Was never so bright, or so bonnie as me.' 

" I like that the best o' a' my sangs," continued the 
maniac, " because he made it. I am often singing it, and 
that's maybe the reason folks ca' me Madge Wildfire. 
I aye answer to the name, though it's no my ain, for 
what's the use of making a fash.^" 

" But ye shouldna sing upon the Sabath at least," said 
Jeanie, who, amid all her distress and anxiety, could not 
help being scandalized at the deportment of her compa- 

* A homely proverb, signifying, better wed a neighbour than 
one fetched from a distance.— Mixen, signifies dunghill. 



TO Tales of My Landlord. 

nion, especially as they now approached near to the little 
village or hamlet. 

"Av! is this Sunday?" said Madge. "My mother 
leads sic a life, wi' turning night into day, that ane loses 
a' count o' the days o' the week, and disna ken Sunday 
frae Saturday. Besides, it's a' your whiggery — in Eng- 
land, folks sing when they like — And then, ye ken, you 
are Christiana, and I am Mercy — and, ye ken, as they 
went on their way they sang." — And she immediately 
raised one of John Bunyan's ditties: — 

*' He that is down need fear no fall. 

He that is low no pride ; 
He that is humble ever shall 

Have God to be his guide. 

Fulness to such a burthen is 

That goon pilgi-imag'e ; 
Here little, and hereafter bliss. 

Is best from agetoag-e. 

^' And do ye ken, Jeanie, I think there's much truth 
in that book the Pilgrim's Progress. The boy that 
sings that song was feeding his father's sheep in the valley 
of humiliation, and Mr Great Heart says, that he lived a 
merrier life, and had more of the herb called hearts-ease 
in his bosom, than they that wear silk and velvet like me, 
and are as bonny as I am." 

Jeanie Deans had never read the fanciful and delight- 
ful parable to which Madge alluded. Bunyan was, in- 
deed, a rigid Calvinist, but then he was also a member of 
a Baptist congregation, so that his works had no place on 
David Deans's shelf of divinity. Madge, however, at 
some time of her life, had been well acquainted, as it ap- 
peared, with the most popular of his performances, which, 
indeed, rarely fails to make a deep impression upon chil- 
dren and people of the lower rank 

" I am sure," she continued, " I may weel say I am come 
out of the city of Destruction, for my mother is Mrs Bat's- 
eyes, that dwells at Deadman's corner ; and Frank 
J^evitt, and Tyburn Tarn, they may be likened to 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian, 71 

Mistrust and Guilt, that came galloping up and struck the 
poor pilgrim to the ground with a great club, and stole a 
bag of silver, which was most of hie spending money, and 
so have they done to many, and will do to more. But 
now we will gang to the Interpreter's house, for I ken a 
man that will play the Interpreter right weel ; for he has 
eyes lifted up to Heaven, the best of books in his hand, the 
law of truth written on his lips, and he stands as if he plead- 
ed wi' men — if 1 had minded what he had said to me, 
I had never been the cast-away creature that I am ! — But 
it is all over now. — But we'll knock at the gate, and then 
the keeper will admit Christiana—but Mercy will be left 
out — and then I'll stand at the door trembling and crying, 
and then Christiana — that's you, Jeanie, — will intercede 
for me; and then Mercy, — that's me, ye ken, — will 
faint; and then the Interpreter — yes, the Interpreter, that's 
Mr Staunton himself, will come out and take me — that's 
poor, lost, demented me — by the hand, and give me a 
pomegranate, and a piece of honeycomb, and a small bot- 
tle of spirits, to stay my fainting — and then the good times 
will come back again, and we'll be the happiest folk you 
ever saw." 

In the midst of the confused assemblage of ideas indicat- 
ed in this speech, Jeanie thought she saw a serious pur- 
pose, on the part of Madge, to endeavour to obtain the par- 
don and countenance of some one whom she had offended; 
an attempt the most likely of all others to bring them once 
more into contact with law and legal protection. She, 
therefore, resolved to be guided by her while she was in 
so hopeful a disposition, and act for her own safety accord- 
ing to circumstances. 

They were now close by the village, one of those beau- 
tiful scenes which are so often found in merry England, 
where the cottages, instead of being built in two direct 
lines on each side of a dusty high-road, stand in detached 
groupes, interspersed not only with large oaks and elms, 
but with fruit-trees, so many of which were at this time 
in flourish, that the grove seemed enamelled with their 
crimson and white blossoms. In the centre of the hamlet 



12 Tales of My Landlord. 

stood the parish church and its little Gothic tower, from 
which at present was heard the Sunday chime of bells. 

" We will wait here until the folks are a' in the church 
— ^they ca' the kirk a church in England, Jeanie, be sure 
jou mind that — for if I was gaun forward amang them, 
a' the gaitts o' boys and lasses wad be crying at Madge 
Wildfire's tail, the little hell -rakers, and the beadle would 
be as hard upon us as if it was our fault. I like their 
skirling as ill he does, I can tell him; I'm sure I often 
wish there was a het peat doun their throats when they 
set them up that gate." 

Conscious of the disorderly appearance of her own 
dress after the adventure of the preceding night, and of 
the grotesque habit and demeanour of her guide, and sen- 
sible how important it was to secure an attentive and 
patient audience to her strange story from some one who 
might have the means to protect her, Jeanie readil}' ac- 
quiesced in Madge's proposal to rest under the trees, by 
which they were still somewhat screened, until the com- 
mencement of service should give them an opportunity of 
entering the hamlet without attracting a crowd around 
them. She made the less opposition, that Madge had 
intimated that this was not the village where her mother 
was in custody, and that the two squires of the pad were 
absent in a different direction. 

She sate herself down, therefore, at the foot of an oak, 
and by assistance of a placid fountain which had been 
dammed up for the use of the villagers, and which served 
her as a natural mirror, she began — no uncommon thing 
with a Scottish maiden of her rank, — to arrange her toi- 
lette in the open air, and bring her dress, soiled and disor- 
dered as it was, into such order as the place and circum- 
stances admitted. 

She soon perceived reason, however, to regret that she 
had set about this task, however decent and necessary, in 
the present time and society. Madge Wildfire, who, 
among other indications of insanity, had a most over- 
weening opinion of those charms, to which, in fact, she 
had owed her misery, and whose mind, like a raft upon a 



The Heart of Mid-Lothimi. TS 

Jake, was agitated and driven about at random by each 
fresh impulse, no sooner behekl Jeanie begin to arrange 
her hair, place her bonnet in order, rub the dust from her 
shoes and clothes, adjust her neck-handkerchief and mit- 
tans, and so forth, than with imitative zeal she began to 
bedizen and trick herself out with shreds and remnants of 
beggarly finery, which she took out of a little bundle, and 
which, when disposed around her person, made her ap- 
pearance ten times more fantastic and apish than it had 
been before. 

Jeanie groaned in spirit, but dared not interfere in a 
matter so delicate. Across the man's cap or riding hat 
which she wore, Madge placed a broken and soiled white 
feather, intersected with one which had been shed from 
the train of a peacock. To her dress, w'hich was a kind 
of riding-habit, she stitched, pinned, and otherwise se- 
cured, a large furbelow of artificial flowers, all crushed, 
wrinkled, and dirty, which had first bedecked a lady of 
quality, then descended to her Abigail, and dazzled the 
inmates of the servants-hall. A tawdry scarf of yellow 
silk, trimmed with tinsel and spangles, which had seen as 
hard service, and boasted as honourable a transmission, 
was next flung over one shoulder, and fell across her per- 
son in the manner of a shoulder-belt or baldrick. Madge 
then stripped olf the coarse ordinary shoes which she wore, 
and replaced them by a pair of dirty satin ones, spangled 
and embroidered to match the scarf, and furnished with 
very high heels. She had cut a willow switch in her 
morning's walk, almost as long as a boy's fishing-rod. 
This she set herself seriously to peel, and when it was 
transformed into such a wand as the Treasurer or High 
Steward bears on public occasions, she told Jeanie that 
she thought they now looked decent, as young women 
should do, upon the Sunday morning, and that as the bells 
had done ringing, she was willing to conduct her to the 
Interpreter's house. 

Jeanie sighed heavily, to think it should be her lot on 
the Lord's day, and during kirk-time too, to parade the 
street of an inhabited village with so very grotesque a 

VOL. II. G 



74 Tales of My Landlord. 

comrade; but necessity had no law, since, without a posi- 
tive quarrel with the mad woman, which, in the circum- 
stances, would have been very unadvisable, she could see 
no means of shaking herself free of her society. 

As for poor Madge, she was completely elated with 
personal vanity, and the most perfect satisfaction concern- 
ing her own dazzling dress, and superior appearance. 
They entered the hamlet without being observed, except 
by one old woman, who, being nearly " high-gravel blind," 
was only conscious that something very fine and glittering 
was passing by, and dropped as deep a reverence to Madge 
as she would have done to a countess. This filled up the 
measure of Madge's self-approbation. She minced, she 
ambled, she smiled, she simpered, and waved Jeanie 
Deans forward with the condescension of a noble chape- 
Tone^ who has undertaken the charge of a country miss on 
her first journey to the capital. 

Jeanie followed in patience, and with her eyes fixed on 
the ground, that she might save herself the mortification of 
seeing her companion's absurdities; but she started when, 
ascending two or three steps, she found herself in the 
church-yard, and saw that Madge was making straight for 
the door of the church. As Jeanie had no mind to enter 
the congregation in such company, she walked aside from 
the path-way, and said in a decided tone, " Madge, I will 
wait here till the church comes out — you may go in by 
yourself, if you have a mind." 

As she spoke these words, she was about to seat herself 
upon one of the grave-stones. 

Madge was a little before Jeanie when she turned aside; 
but suddenly changing her course, she followed her with 
long strides, and, with every feature inflamed with passion, 
overtook and seized her by the arm. " Do ye think, ye 
ungratefu' wretch, that I am gaun to let you sit doun 
upon my father's grave? The de'il settle ye doun, if ye 
dinna rise and come in to the Interpreter's house, that's 
the house of God, wi' me, but I'll rive every dud aff your 
back!" 

She adapted the action to the phrase; for with one 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian, 75 

clutch she stripped Jeanie of her straw bonnet and a 
handful of her hair to boot, and threw it up into an old 
yew tree, where it stuck fast. Jeanie's first impulse was 
to scream, but conceiving she might receive deadly harm 
before she could obtain the assistance of any one, not- 
withstanding the vicinity of the church, she thought it 
wiser to follow the mad woman into the congregation, 
where she might find some means of escape from her, or 
at least be secured against her violence. But when she 
meekly intimated her consent to follow Madge, her guide's 
uncertain brain had caught another train of ideas. She 
held Jeanie fast with one hand, and with the other pointed 
to the inscription on the grave stone, and commanded her to 
read it. Jeanie obeyed, and read these words: — 

" This Monument was erected to the Memort op 
Donald Murdockson of the King's xxvi, or Camero- 
NiAN Regiment, a sincere Christian, a brave Sol- 
dier, and a faithful Servant, by his grateful and 
SORROWING Master, Robert Staunton." 

" It's very weel read, Jeanie; it's just the very words," 
said Madge, whose ire had now faded into deep melan- 
choly, and with a step, which, to Jeanie's great joy, was 
uncommonly quiet and mournful, she led her companion 
towards the door of the church. 

It was one of those old-fashioned Gothic parish churches 
which are frequent in England, the most cleanly, decent, 
and reverential places of worship that are, perhaps, any 
where to be found in the Christian world. Yet, notwith- 
standing the decent solemnity of its exterior, Jeanie was 
too faithful to the directory of the presbyterian kirk to 
have entered a prelatic place of worship, and would, 
upon any other occasion, have thought that she beheld in 
the porch the venerable figure of her father waving her 
back from the entrance, and pronouncing in a solemn 
tone, " Cease, my child, to hear the instruction which 
causeth to err from the words of knowledge." But in her 
present agitating and alarming situation, she looked for 



76 Tales of My Landlord. 

safety to this forbidden place of assembly, as the hunted 
animal will sometimes seek shelter from imminent danger 
in the human habitation, or in other places of refuge most 
alien to its nature and habits. Not even the sound of. 
the organ, and of one or two flutes which accompanied 
the psalmody, prevented her from following her guide into 
the chancel of the church. 

No sooner had Madge put her foot upon the pavement, 
and become sensible that she was the object of attention 
to the spectators, than she resumed all the fantastic ex- 
travagance of deportment which some transient touch of 
melancholy had banished for an instant. She swam 
rather than walked up the centre aisle, dragging Jeanie 
after her, whom she held fast by the hand. She would, 
indeed, have fain slipped aside into the pew nearest to 
the door, and left Madge to ascend in her own manner 
and alone to the high places of the synagogue; but this 
was impossible, without a degree of violent resistance, 
which seemed to her inconsistent with the time and place, 
and she was accordingly led in captivity up the whole 
length of the church by her grotesque conductress, who, 
with half-shut eyes, a prim smile upon her lips, and a 
mincing motion with her hands, which corresponded with 
the delicate and affected pace at which she was pleased 
to move, seemed to take the general stare of the congre- 
gation, which such an exhibition necessarily excited, as -a 
high compliment, and which she returned by nods and 
half curtsies to individuals amongst the audience, whom 
she seemed to distinguish as acquaintances. Her ab- 
surdity w^as enhanced in the eyes of the spectators by 
the strange contrast which she formed to her companion, 
who, with dishevelled hair, downcast eyes, and a face 
glowing with shame, was dragged as it were in triumph 
after her. 

Madge's airs were at length fortunately cut short by her 
encountering in her progress the looks of the clergyman, 
who fixed upon her a glance at once steady, compassionate 
and admonitory. She hastily opened an empty pew which 
happened to be near her, and entered, dragging in Jeanie 



The Heart of Md-Lothian. Ti 

after her. Kicking Jeanie on the shins, by way of hint 
that she should follow her example, she sunk her head upon 
her hand for the space of a minute. Jeanie, to whom this 
posture of mental devotion was entirely new, did not at- 
tempt to do the like, but looked round her with a be- 
wildered stare, which her neighbours, judging from the 
company in which they saw her, very naturally ascribed to 
insanity. Every person in their immediate vicinity drew 
back from this extraordinary couple as far as the limits of 
their pew permitted, but one old man could not get beyond 
Madge's reach, ere she had snatched the prayer-book from 
his hand, and ascertained the lesson of the day. She then 
turned up the ritual, and with the most overstrained enthu- 
siasm of gesture and manner, shewed Jeanie the passages 
as they were rerad in the service, making at the same time 
her own responses so loud as to be heard above those of 
every other person. 

Notwithstanding the shame and vexation which Jeanie 
felt in being thus exposed in a place of worship, she could 
not and durst not omit rallying her spirits so as to look 
around her, and consider to whom she ought to appeal for 
protection so soon as the service should be concluded. Her 
first ideas naturally fixed upon the clergyman, and she 
was confirmed in the resolution by observing that he was 
an aged gentleman, of a dignified appearance and deport- 
ment, who read the service with an undisturbed and de- 
cent gravity, which brought back to becoming attention 
those younger members of the congregation who had been 
disturbed by the extravagant behaviour of Madge Wildfire* 
To the clergyman, therefore, Jeanie resolved to make her 
appeal when the service was over. 

It is true she felt disposed to be shocked at his surplice, 
of which she had heard so much, but which she had never 
witnessed upon the person of a preacher of the word. 
Then she was confused by the change of posture adopted 
in different parts of the ritual, the more so as Madge 
Wildfire, to whom they seemed familiar, took the oppor- 
tunity to exercise authority over her, pulling her up and 
pushing her dowa with a bustling assiduity, which Jeanie 
G 2. 



78 Tales of My Landlord. 

felt must make them both the objects of painful attention. 
But notwithstanding these prejudices, it was her sensible 
resolution, in this dilemma, to imitate as nearly as she 
could what was done around her. The prophet, she 
thought, permitted Naaman the Syrian to bow even in the 
house of Rimmon. — Surely, if I, in this streight, worship 
the God of my Fathers in mine own language, although 
the manner thereof be strange to me, the Lord will pardon 
me in this thing. 

In this resolution she became so much confirmed, that, 
wiihdrawing herself from Madge as far as the pew permit- 
ted, she endeavoured to evince, by serious and composed 
attention to what was passing, that her mind was com- 
posed to devotion. Her tormentor would not lo.ng have 
permitted her to remain quiet, but fatigue overpowered 
her, and she fell asleep in the other corner of the pew. 

Jeanie, though her mind in her own despite sometimes 
reverted to her situation, compelled herself to give atten- 
tion to a sensible, energetic, and well-composed discourse 
upon the practical doctrines of Christianity, which she 
could not help approving, although it was every word writ- 
ten down and read by the preacher, and although it was 
delivered in a tone and gesture very different from those 
of Boanerges Stormheaven, who was her father's favourite 
preacher. The serious and placid attention with which 
Jeanie listened did not escape the clergyman. Madge 
Wildfire's entrance had rendered him apprehensive of some 
disturbance, to provide against which, as far as possible, 
he often turned his eyes to the part of the church where 
Jeanie and she were placed, and became soon aware that, 
notwithstanding the loss of her head gear, and the awk- 
wardness of her situation, had given an uncommon and 
wild appearance to the features of the former, yet she was 
in a state of mind very different from that of her compa- 
nion. When he dismissed the congregation, he observed 
her look around with a wild and terrified look, as if uncer- 
tain what course she ought to adopt, and noticed that she 
approached one or two of the most decent of the congre- 
gation, as if to address them, and then shrunk back timid- 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. 79 

ly, on observing that they seemed to shun and to avoid her. 
The clergyman was satisfied there must be something ex- 
traordinary in all this, and as a benevolent man, as well as 
a good Christian pastor, he resolved to inquire into the 
matter more minutely. 



80 Tales oj My Landlm-d. 



CHAPTER VII. 



♦There govern'din that year, 



A stern, stout churl — an angry overseer. 

Crabbe. 



While Mr Staunton, for such was this worthy clergy- 
, man's name, was laying aside his gown in the vestry, 
Jeanie was in the act of coming to an open rupture with 
Madge. 

" We must return to Mummer's barn directly," said 
Madge; " we'll be ower late, and my mother will be an- 
gry." 

" I am not going back with you, Madge," said Jeanie, 
taking out a guinea, and offering it to her; " I am much 
obliged to you, but I maun gang my ain road." 

" And me coming a' this way o' my gate to pleasure 
you, ye ungratefu' cutty," answered Madge; " and me to be 
brained by my mother when I gang hame, and a' for your 
sake — but I will gar ye, as good" — 

" For God's sake!" said Jeanie to a man who stood 
beside them, " keep her off — she is mad." 

" Ey — ey," answered the boor; " I hae some guess at 
that, and I trow thou be'st a bird of the same feather. Ho w- 
somever, Madge, I redd thee keep hand off her, or I'se 
lend thee a whister-poop." 

Several of the lower class of the parishioners now gather- 
ed round the strangers, and the cry arose among the boys, 
that " there was going to be a fite between mad Madge 
Murdockson and another Bess of Bedlam." But while 
the fry assembled with the humane hope of seeing as much 
of the fun as possible, the laced cocked hat of the beadle 
was discerned among the multitude, and all made way 
for that person of awful authority.. His first address was 
to Madge. 

" What's brought thee back again, thou silly donaot, to 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. 81 

plague this parish^ Hast thou brought ony more bastards 
wi' thee to lay to honest men's doors? or does thou think 
to burthen us with this goose, that's as gare-brained as 
thysel, as if rates were no up enow? Away wi' thee to 
thy thief of a mother ; she's fast in the stocks at Barkston 
town-end — Away wi' ye out o' the parish, or I'se be at ye 
with the rattan." 

Madge stood sulky for a minute; but she had been too 
often taught submission to the beadle's authority by un- 
gentle means, to feel courage enough to dispute it. 

" And my mother — my puir auld mother, is in the 
stocks at Barkston! — This is a' your wyte, Miss Jeanie 
Deans; but I'll be upsides wi' vou, as sure as my name's 
Madge Wildfire — I mean Murdockson — God help me, 
I forget my very name in this confused waste." 

So saying, she turned upon her heel, and went off, 
followed by all the mischievous imps of the village, some 
crying, " Madge, canst thou tell thy name yet?" some pull- 
ing the skirts of her dress, and all, to the best of <heir 
strength and ingenuity, exercising some device or other 
to exasperate her inJo frenzy. 

Jeanie saw her departure with infinite delight, though 
she wished, that, in some way or other, she could have 
requited the service Madge had cont'erred upon her. 

In the meantime, she applied to the beadle to know, 
whether, "there was anyhouse in the village where she 
could be civilly entertained for her money, and whether 
she could be permitted to speak to the clergyman?" 

" Ay, ay, we'se ha' r-ven nd care on thee; and T think," 
answered the man of constituted aulhori'y, "that, unless 
thou answer the rector all the better, w^'se sp>re thy 
money, and gie thee lodging at the parish charge, young 
woman." 

" Where atn I to go, then?" said Jeanie, with some 
alarm. 

" Why, I am to take thee to his Reverence, in the first 
place, to gie an account o' thyself, and to see thou come na 
to be a burthen upon the parish." 

"I do not wish to burthen any one," replied Jeanie; 



S2 Tales of My Landlord. 

" I have enough for my own wants, and only wish to get 
on my journey safely." 

" Why, that's another matter," replied the beadle; 
" an' if it be true — and I think thou does not look so pol- 
rumptious as thy play-fellow yonder — thou wouldst be a 
mettle lass enow, an thou wert snog and snod a bit bet- 
ter. Come thou away, then — the Rector is a good man." 

" Is that the minister," said Jeanie, '' who preached" — 
'' " The minister? Lord help thee! What kind o' presby- 
terian art thou? — Why, 'tis the Rector — the Rector's sell, 
woman, and there isna the like o'him in the county, nor 
the four next to it. Come away — away with thee — we 
munna bide here." 

" I am sure I am very willing to go to see the minis- 
ter," said Jeanie; "for, though he read his discourse, and 
wore that surplice, as they call it here, I canna but think 
he must be a very worthy God-fearing man, to preach 
the root of the matter in the way he did." 

The disappointed rabble, finding that there was like to be 
no sport, had by this time dispersed, and Jeanie, with her 
usual patience, followed her cuusequential and surly, but 
not brutal, conductor towards the rectory. 

This clerical mansion was large and commodious, for 
the living was an excellent one, and the advowson be- 
longed to a very wealthy family in the neighbourhood, 
who had usually bred up a son or nephew to the church, 
for the sake of inducting him, as opportunity offered, 
into this very comfortable provision. In this manner 
the rectory of Willingham had always been considered 
as a direct and immediate appanage of Willingham-hall; 
and as the rich baronets to whom the latter belonged, 
had usually a son, or brother, or nephew settled in the 
living, the utmost care had been taken to render their 
habitation not merely respectable and commodious, but 
even dignified and imposing. 

It was situated about four hundred yards from {he vil- 
lage, and on a rising ground which sloped gently up- 
ward, covered with small enclosures, or closes, laid out 
irregularly so that the old oaks and elms which were 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. 83 

planted in hedge-rows, fell into perspective, and were 
i)lended together in beautiful irregularity. When they 
approached nearer to the house, a handsome gate-way 
admitted them into a lawn, of narrow dimensions in- 
deed, but which was interspersed with large sweet ches- 
nut- trees and beeches, and kept in handsome order. 
The front of the house was irregular. Part of it seemed 
very old, and had, in fact, been the residence cri' the in- 
cumbent in Romish times. Successive occupants had 
made considerable additions and improvements, each in 
the taste of his own age, and without much regard to 
symmetry. But these incongruities of architecture were 
so graduated and happily mingled, that the eye, far from 
being displeased with the combinations of various styles, 
saw nothing but what was interesting in the varied and 
intricate pile which they displayed. Fruit-trees display- 
ed on the southern wall, outer stair- cases, various places 
of entrance, a combination of roofs and chimneys of dif- 
ferent ages, united to render the front, not indeed beau- 
tiful or grand, but intricate, perplexed, or, to use Mr. 
Price's appropriate phrase, picturesque. The most con- 
siderable addition was that of the present Rector, who, 
" being a bookish man," as the beadle was at the pains 
to inform Jeanie, to augment, perhaps, her reverence for 
the person before whom she was to appear, had built a 
handsome library and parlour, and no less than two ad- 
ditional bed- rooms. 

" Mony men would hae scrupled such expence," con- 
tinued the parochial officer, " seeing as the living mun go 
as it pleases Sir Edmund to will it; but his Reverence 
has a canny bit land of his own, and need not look on two 
sides of a penny." 

Jeanie could not help comparing the irregular yet ex* 
tensive and commodious pile of buffding before us, to the 
" Manses," in her own country, where a set of penurious 
heritors, professing all the while the devotion of their 
lives and fortunes to the presbyterian establishment, strain 
their inventions to discover what may be nipped, and 
clipped, and pared from a building which forms but a 



84 Tales of My Landlord. 

poor accommodation even for the present incumbent, au i 
despite the superior advantages of" stone masonry, must, 
in the course of forty or fifty years, again burden their 
descendants with an expence, which, once liberally and 
handsomely employed, ought to have freed their estates 
from a recurrence of it for more than a century at least. 

Behind the Rector's house the ground sloped down to 
a small river, which, without possessing the romantic 
vivacity and rapidity of a northern stream, was, never- 
theless, by its occasional appearance through the ranges 
of willows and poplars that crowned its banks, a very 
pleasing accompaniment to the landscape. *•' It was the 
best trouting stream," said the beadle, whom the pa- 
tience of Jeanie, and especially the assurance that she 
was not about to become a burthen to the parish, had 
rendered rather communicative, " the best trouting 
stream in all Lincolnshire, for when you got lower, there 
was nought to be done wi' fly-fishing." 

Turning aside from the principal entrance, he con- 
ducted Jeanie towards a sort of portal connected with 
the older part of the building, which was chiefly occu- 
pied by servants, and knocking at the door, it was 
opened by a servant in grave purple livery, such as be- 
fitted a wealthy and dignified clergyman. 

'' How dost do, Tummas ?" said the beadle — " and 
how's young Measter Staunton ?" 

" Why, but poorly — but poorly, Measter Stubbs. — Are 
you wan-ing to see his Reverence ?" 

" Ay, ay, Tummas; please to say I ha' brought up the 
young woman as came to service to-day with mad Madge 
Murdockson — she seems to be a decenlish koind o' body; 
but I ha' asked her never a question. Only I can tell 
his R'^verence that she is a Scotchwoman, I judge, and 
as flat as the fens of Holland." 

Tummas honoured Jeanie Deans with such a stare, 
as the pampered domestics of the rich, whether spirit- 
ual or temporal, usually esteem it part of t^ieir privilege 
to bestow upon the poor, and then dcsiied Mr. Stubbs 



The Heart pf Mid- Lothian. 85 

a«d his charge to step in till he informed his master of 
their presence. 

The room into which he showed them was a sort of 
steward's parlour, hung with a county map or two, and 
three or four prints of eminent persons connected with 
the county, as Sir William Monson, James York the 
blacksmith of Lincoln, and the famous Peregiiiie, Lord 
Willoughby, in complete armour, looking as when he 
said, in the words of the legend below the engraving, — 

" Stand to it, noble pikemen. 

And face ye well about ; 
And shoot ye sharp, bold bowmen. 

And we will keep them out. 
Ye musquet and culUver-men, 

Do ; ou prove true to me, 
I'll be the foremost man in fight. 

Said brave Lord Willoughbee." 

When they had entered this apartment, Tummas as a 
matter of course offered, and as a matter of course Mr 
Stubbs accepted, a " summat" to eat and drink, being 
the respectable reliques of a gammon of bacon, and a lohole 
ivhiskin, or black pot of sufficient double ale. To these 
eatables Mr Beadle seriously inclined himself, and (for 
we must do him justice) not withT)ut an invitation to 
Jeanie, in which Tummas joined, that his prisoner or 
charge would follow his good example. But although she 
mighi have stood in need of refreshment, consivlering she 
had tasted no food that day, the anxiety of the momput, her 
own sparing and abstemious habits, and a bashful aversion 
to eat in company of the two strangers, induced her to de- 
cline their courtesy. So she sale in a chair apart, while 
Mr Stubbs and Mr Tummas, who had chosen to join his 
friend in consideration that dinner was to be put back till 
after the afternoon service, made a hearty luncheon, which 
lasted for half an hour, and might not then have concluded, 
had not his Reverence rung his bell, so that Tummas was 
obliged to attend his master. Then, and no sooner, to 
save himself the labour of a second journey to the other 
end of the house, he announced to his master the arrival 

VOL. II. H 



SG Tales of My Landlord. 

of Mr Stubbs, with the other mad woman, as he chose te? 
designaie Jcanie, as an event which had just taken place. 
He returned with an order that Mr Stubbs and the young 
woman should be instantly ushered up to the library. 

The beadle bolted in haste his last mouthful of fat bacon, 
washed down the greasy morsel with the last rinsings of 
the pot of ale, and immediately marshalled Jeanie through 
one or two intricate passages which led from the ancient 
to the more modern buildings, into a handsome little hall, 
or anti-room, adjoining to the library, and out of which a 
glass door opened to the lawn. 

" Stay here," said Stubbs, " till I tell his Reverence 
you are come." 

So saying, he opened a door and entered the library. 

Without wishing to hear their conversation, Jeanie, as 
she was circumstanced, could not avoid it; for as Stubbs 
stood by the door, and his reverence was at the upper end ^ 
of a large room, their conversation was necessarily audible 
in the anti-room. 

" So you have brought the young woman here at last. 
Mr Stubbs. I expected you some time since. You know 
I do not wish such persons to remain in custody a mo- 
ment vvithout some inquiry into their situation." 

" Very true, your Reverence," replied ihe beadle; " but 
the young woman had eat nought to-day, and soa Measter 
Tummas did set down a drap of drink and a morsel, to be 
sure." 

" Mr Thomas was very right, Mr Stubbs; and what 
has become of the other most unfortunate being?" 

" Why," replied Mr Stubbs, " I did think the sight on 
her would but vex your Reverence, and soa I did let her 
go her ways back to her muther, who is in trouble in the 
next parish." 

" In trouble! — that signifies in prison, I suppose.^" said 
Mr S'anntoi). 

'' Ay, truly; something like it, an' it like your Reve- 
rence." 

"Wretched, unhappy, incorrigible woman!" said the 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. 87 

eiersyman. " And what sort of person is this companion 
ofhcr^s?" 

'• Why, decent enow, an' it like your keverence," said 
Slal)bs; '"' for aught I sees of her, there's no harm of her, 
aii^^ .she says she has cash enow to carry her out of the 
county." 

^' Cash? that is always what you think of Stubbs — But, 
ha;3 she sense? — has she her wits? — lias she the capacity 
of iking care of herself?" 

■^'Why, your Reverence," replied Stubbs, '' I cannot 
jiv p ..' — rwill be sworn she was not born at Witt-ham;* 
f( "^ ;tfer Giiibs looked at her all the time of sarvice, and 
h.. o lys she could not turn up a single lesson like a Chris- 
tie: ii, even though she had Madge Murdockson to help her. 
B^it ihen, as to fending for hersell, wliy, she's a bit of a 
Sco'uhwoman, your Reverence, and they say the worst 
donnot of them can look out for their own turn — and 
she is decently put on enow, and not bechounched like 
t'other." 

" Send her in here then, and do you remain below, Mr 
Stubbs." 

This colloquy had engaged Jeanie's attention so deeply, 
that it was not until it was over that she observed that the 
sashed door, which, we have said, led from the anti-room 
into the garden, was opened, and that there entered, or ra- 
ther was borne in by two assistants, a young man, of a 
very pale and sickly appearance, whom they lifted to the 
nearest couch, and placed there, as if to recover from the 
fatigue of an unusual exertion. Just as they were making 
this arrangement, Stubbs came out of the library, and sum- 
moned Jeanie to enter it. She obej^ed him not without 
tremor, for besides the novelty of the situation to a girl of 
her secluded habits, she felt also as if the successful prose- 
cution of her journey was to depend upon the impression 
she should be able to make on Mr Staunton. 

It is true, it was difficult to suppose on what pretext a 



* A proverbial and punning expression in that county, to ex- 
press that a person is not very witty 



88 Tales of My Landlord, 

person travelling on her own business, and at her own 
charge, could be interrupted upon her route. But the 
violent detention she had already undergone was sufficient 
to show that there existed persons at no great distance who 
had the interest, the inclination, and the audacity forcibly 
to stop her journey, and she felt the necessity of having 
some countenance and protection, at least till she should 
get beyond their reach. While these things passed 
through her mind, much faster than our pen and ink can 
record, or even the reader's eye collect the meaning of its 
traces, Jeanie found herself in a handsome library, and in 
presence of the Rector of Wilhngham. The well fur- 
nished presses and shelves which surrounded the large 
and handsome apartment, contained more books than 
Jeanie imagined existed in the world, being accustomed 
to consider as an extensive collection two fir shelves, each 
about three feet long, which contained her father's trea- 
sured volumes, the whole pith and marrow, as he used 
sometimes to boast, of modern divinity. An orrery, 
globes, a telescope, and some other scientific implements, 
conveyed to Jeanie an impression of admiration and won- 
der not nnmixed with fear; for, in her ignorant apprehen- 
sion, they seemed rather adapted for magical purposes 
than any other; and a few stuffed animals (as the Rector 
*was fond of natural history) added to the impressive cha- 
racter of the apartment. 

Mr Staunton spoke to her with great mildness. He 
observed, that although her appearance at church had 
been uncommon, in strange, and, he must add, in dis- 
creditable society, and calculated, upon the whole, to dis- 
turb the congregation during divine worship, he wished, 
nevertheless, to hear her own account of herself before 
taking any steps which his duty might seem to demand. 
He was a justice of peace, he informed her, as well as a 
clergyman. 

^' His honour" (for she would not say his reverence) 
" was very civil and kind," was all that poor Jeanie could 
at firs! bring out. 

*' Who are you, young woman?" said the clergyman, 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. 89 

more peremptorily — " and what do you do in this country, 
and in such company? — We allow no strollers or vagrants 
here." 

'' I am not a vagrant, or a stroller, sir," said Jeanie, a 
little roused by the supposition. " I am a decent Scots 
lass, travelling through the land on my own business and 
my own expences; and I was so unhappy as to fall in with 
bad company, and was stopped a' night on my journey. 
And this puir creature, who is something light-headed, 
letmeoui in the morning." 

"Bad company!" said the clergyman. "I am afraid, 
young woman, you have not been sufficiently anxious to 
avoid them." 

" Indeed, sir," returned Jeanie, " I have been brought 
up to shun evil communication. But these wicked peo- 
ple were thieves, and stopped me by violence and mastery." 

*•' Thieves!" said Mr Staunton; "then you charge them 
with robbery, I suppose?" 

" No, sir; they did not take so much as a bodle f.oni 
me," answered Jeanie; " nor did ihey use me ill, other- 
wise than by contining me." 

The clergyman enquired into the particulars of her ad- 
venture, which she told him from poin^ to point. 

"" This is an extraordinary, and not a very probable -ale, 
young woman," resumed Mr Siaunton. '^ Here has been, 
according to your account, a great violence committed, 
without any adequate motive. Are you aw^are of the 
law of this couiilrv — that if you lodge this charge, you 
will be bound over to prosecute this gang?" 

Jeanie did not understand him, and he ex-plained that 
the English law, in addition to the inconvenience sustain-' 
ed by persons who have been robbed or injured, has the 
goodness to entrust to them the care and the expence of 
appearing as prosecutors. 

Jeanie said, " that her business at liOndon was ex- 
press; all she w^anted v/as, that any gentleman would, out 
of Christian charity, protect her to some town where she 
could hire horses and a guide; and, finallv," she thought, 
-' it would be her father's mind that she was not free to 
H 2 



90 Tales of My Landlord, 

give testimony in an English court of justice, as the land 
was not under a direct gospel dispensation." 

Mr Staunton stared a little, and asked if her father 
was a Quaker. 

" God forbid, sir," said Jeanie — " He is nae schismatic 
nor sectary, nor ever treated for sic black commodities as 
their's, and that's weel kenn'd o' him." 

" And what is his name, pray?" said Mr Staunton. 

" David Deans, sir, the cow-feeder at St Leonard's 
Crags, near Edinburgh." 

A deep groan from the anti-room prevented the rector 
from replying, and, exclaiming, " Good God ! that unhappy 
boy," he left Jeanie alone, and hastened into the outer 
apartment. 

Some noise and bustle was heard, but no one entereel 
the library for the best part of an hour. 



Heart of Mid- Lothian. 9 J 



CHAPTER Vllf. 



Fantastic passions ! maddening" brawl \ 
And shame and terror over all ! 
Deeds to be hid which were not hid, 
"Which all confused, I could not know 
W hether I suffered or I did, 
For all seemed guilt, remorse, or wo ; 
My own, or other's, still the same 
Life-stifling fear, soul-stifling shame. 

Coleridge. 



During the interval while she was thus left alonc^ 
Jeanie anxiously revolved in her mind what course was 
best for her to pursue. She was impatient to continue 
her journey, yet she feared she could not safely adven- 
ture to do so while the old hag and her assistants were in 
the neighbourhod, without risking a repetition of their 
violence. She thought she could collect from the conver- 
sation which she had partly overheard, and also from 
the wild confessions of Madge Wildfire, that her mother 
had a deep and revengeful motive for obstructing her jour- 
ney if possible. And from whom could she hope for as- 
sistance if not from Mr Staunton.'' His whole appear- 
ance and demeanour seemed to encourage her hopes. 
His features were handsome, though marked with a deep 
cast of melancholy; his tone and language were gentle 
and encouraging; and, as he had served in the army for 
several years during his youth, his air retained that easy 
frankness which is peculiar to the profession of arms. 
He was besides a minister of the gospel; and although a 
worshipper, according to Jeanie's notions, in the Court 
of the Gentiles, and so benighted as to wear a surplice, 
although he read the Common Prayer, and wrote down 
every word of his sermon before delivering it; and though 
he was, moreover, in strength of lungs, as well as pith 
and marrow of doctrine, vastly inferior to Boanerges 



92 Tales of My Landlord. 

Stormheaven, Jeanie still thought he must be a very 
different person from Curate Kiltstoup, and other pre- 
laiical divines of her father's earlier days, who used to 
get drunk in their canonical dress, and hound out the 
dragoons against the wandering Cameronians. The house 
seemed to be in some disturbance, but as she could not 
suppose she was altogether forgotten, she thought it bet- 
ter to remain quiet in the apartment where she had been 
left, till some one should lake notice of her. 

The first who entered was, to her no small delight, one 
of her own sex, a motherly-looking aged person of a 
house-keeper. To her Jeanie explained her situation in 
a [ew words, and begged her assistance. 

The dignity of a housekeeper did not encourage too 
much familiarity with a person who was at the Rectory 
on justice-business, and whose character might seem in 
herejes somewhat precarious; but she was civil although 
distant. 

" Her young master," she said, " had had a bad acci- 
dent by a fall from his horse, which made him liable to 
fainting fits; he had been taken very 111 just now, and 
it was impossible his Reverence could see Jeanie for 
some time; but that she need not fear his doing all that 
was just and proper in her behalf the instant he could 
get her business attended to."" — She concluded by offering 
to show Jeanie a room, where she might remain till his 
Reverence was at leisure. 

Our heroine took the opportunity to request the means 
of adjusting and changing her dress. 

The housekeeper, in whose estimation order an^l clean- 
liness ranked high among personal vii'tues, gladly com- 
plied with a request so reasonable; and the change of dress 
which Jeanie's bundle furnished, made so important an 
improvement in her appearance, that the old lady hardlj^ 
knew the spoiled and disordered traveller, whose attire 
shewed the violence she had sustained,, in the neat, 
clean, quiet-looking little Scotchwoman, who now stood 
before her. Encouraged by such a favourable alteration 
in her appearance, Mrs Dalton ventured to invite Jeanie 



Tlie Heart of Mid-Lothian. ,93 

to partake of her dinner, and was equally pleased with 
the decent propriety of her conduct during that meal. 

" Thou canst read this book, canst thou, young woman?" 
said the old lady when their meal was concluded, laying 
her hand upon a large Bible. 

"I hope sae, madam," said Jeanie, surprised at the 
question; " my father wad hae wanted mony a thing, ere 
I had wanted that schuling." 

" The better sign of him, young woman. There are 
men here, well to pass in the world, would not want their 
share of a Liecestershire plover, and that's a bag-pud- 
ding, if fasting for three hours would make all their poor 
children read the Bible from end to end. Take thou 
the book, then, for my eyes are something dazed, and 
read where thou listest — it's the only book where thou 
canst not happen wrong in." 

Jeanie was at first tempted to turn up the parable of 
the good Samaritan, but her conscience checked her, as if 
it were an use of Scripture, not for her own edification, 
but to work upon the mind of others for the relief of her 
worldly afflictions; and under this scrupulous sense of 
duty, she selected, in preference, a chapter of the pro- 
phet Isaiah, and read it, notwithstanding her northern ac- 
cent and tone, with a devout propriety, which greatly 
edified Mrs Dalton. 

" Ah," she said, " an' all Scotswomen were sic as 
thou! — but it was our luck to get born devils of thy coun- 
try, I think — every one worse than t'other. If thou 
knowest of ony tidy lass like thysell, that wanted a place, 
and could bring a good character, and would not go 
laiking about to wakes and fairs, and wore shoes and 
stockings all the day round — why, I'll not say but we 
might find room for her at the rectory. Hast no cousin 
or sister, lass, that such an offer would suit?" 

This was touching upon a sore point, but Jeanie was 
spared the pains of replying by the entrance of the same 
man-servant she had seen before 

'^ Measter wishes to see the young woman from Scot- 
land," wasTummas's address. 



94 Tales of My Landlord. 

" Goto his Reverence, my dear, as fast as you can, and 
tell him all your story — his Reverence is a kind man," 
said Mrs Dalton. " I will fold down the leaf, and make 
you a cup of tea, with some nice muffin, against you 
come down, and that's what you seldom see in Scotland, 
girl." 

" Measter's waiting for the young woman," said Tum- 
mas impatiently. 

" Well, Mr Jack-Sauce, and what is your business to 
put in your oar? — And how often must I teH you to call 
Mr Staunton his Reverence, seeing as he is a dignified 
clergyman, and not be meastering, meastering him, as if 
he were a little petty squire?" 

As Jeanie was now at the door and ready to accompany 
Tummas, the footmau said nothing till he got into the 
passage, when he muttered, " There arc more masters 
than one in this house, and I think we shall have a mis- 
tress too, an Dame Dalton carries it thus." 

Tummas led the way through a more intricate range of 
passages than Jeanie had yet threaded, and ushered her into 
an apartment which was darkened by the closing of most 
of the window shutters, and in which was a bed with the 
curtains partly drawn. 

" Here is the young woman, sir," said Tummas. 

" Very well," said a voice from the bed, but not that of 
his Reverence; '^ be ready to answer the bell, and leave 
the room." 

" There is some mistake," said Jeanie, confounded at 
finding herself in the apartment of an invalid, *' the 
servant told me that the minister" — 

"• Don't trouble yourself," said the invalid, " there is 
no mistake. I know more than you may think I do of them, 
and 1 can manage ^iiem better — Leave the room, Tom." 
The servant obeyed. — " We must not," said the invalid, 
"lose time, when we have little to lose. Open the shut- 
ter of that window." 

She did so, and as he drew aside the curtain of his bed, 
the light fell on his pale countenance, as, turban'd with 



The Heart of Mid- Loiliian. 95 

bandages, and dressed in a night-gown, he lay seemingly 
exhausted upon the bed. 

" Look at me," he said. " Jeanie Deans, can you not 
recollect me.^" 

" No, sir," said she, full of surprise. " I was never in 
this country before." 

" But I may have been in yours. Think — recollect. 
I would faint did I name the name you are most dearly , 
bound to loathe and to detest. Think — remember!" - 

A terrible recollection flashed on Jeanie, which every 
tone of the speaker confirmed, and which his next words 
rendered certainty. 

" Be composed — remember Muschat's Cairn, and the 
moonlight night." 

Jeanie sunk down on a chair, with clasped hands, and 
gasped in agony. 

^' Yes, here I lie," he said, " like .a crushed snake, 
writhing with impatience at my incapacity of motion — 
here I lie, when I ought to have been in Edinburgh, try- 
ing every means to save a life that is dearer to me than 
my own. — How is your sister? — ^how fares it with her? — 
condemned to death, I know it, by this time ! O, the horse 
that carried me safely on a thousand errands of folly and 
wickedness, that he should have broke down with me on 
the only good mission I have undertaken for years. 
But I must rein in my passion — my frame cannot endure 
it, and I have much to say. Give me some of the cordial 
which stands on that table. — Why do you tremble? But 
you have too good cause. — Let it stand — I need it not." 

Jeanie, however reluctant, approached him with the 
cup into which she hud poured the draught, and could not 
forbear saying, " There is a cordial for the mind, sir, if 
the wicked will turn from their transgressions, and seek to 
the Physician of souls." 

" Silence!" he said sternly — "and yet I thank you. 
But tell me, and lose no time in doing so, what you are 
doing in this country? Remember, though I have been 
your sister's worst enemy; yet I will serve her with ihe 
best of my blood, and I will serve you for her sake; and no 



96 Tdts of My Landlord. 

one can serve you to such purpose, for no one can k»ow 
the circumstances so well — so speak without fear." 

" I am not afraid, sir," said Jeanie, collecting her spirits. 
" I trust in God; and if it pleases him to redeem my sis- 
ter's captivity, it is all I seek, whosoever be the instru- 
ment. But, sir, to be plain with you, I dare not use your 
counsel, unless I were enabled to see that it accords with 
the law which I must rely upon." 

" The devil take the puritan!" said George Staunton, for 
so we must now call him. '' I beg your pardon; but I 
am naturally impatient, and you drive me m^d. What 
harm can it possibly do you to tell me in what situation 
your sister staiids, and your own expectations of being 
able to assist her? It is time enough to refuse my advice 
whin I offer any which you may think improper. I speak 
cahiily to you, though 'tis against my nature; — but don't 
urge me to impatience — it will only render me incapable 
of serving Effie." 

There was in the looks and words of this unhappy young 
man a sort of restrained eagerness and impetuosity which 
seemed to prey upon itself, as the impatience of a fiery 
steed fatigues itself with churning upon the bit. Affcr a 
moment's consideration, it occurred to Jeanie that she was 
not entitled to withhold from him, whether on her sister's 
account or her own, the fatal account of the consequences 
of the crime which he had committed, not to reject such 
advice, being in itself lawful and innocent, as he might be 
able to suggest in the way of remedy. Accordingly, in as 
few words as she could express it, she told the hisloty of 
her sister's trial and condemnation, and of her own journey 
as far as Newark. He appeared to listen in the utmost 
agony of mind, yet repressed every violent symptom of 
emotion, whether by gesture or sound, which might have 
interrupted the speaker, and, stretched on his couch like 
the Mexican monarch on his bed of live coals, only the 
contoriions of his cheek, and the quivering of his limbs, 
gave indication of his sufferings. To much of what she 
said he listened with stifled groans, as if he were only 
hearing those miseries confirmed, whose fatal reality he 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. 07 

had known before; but when she pursued her tale through 
the circumstances which had interrupted her journey, ex- 
treme surprise and earnest attention appeared to succeed 
to the symptoms of remorse which he had before exhibited. 
He questioned Jeanie closely concerning the appearance 
of the two men, and the conversation which she had over- 
heard between the taller of them and the woman. 

When Jeanie mentioned the old woman having alluded 
to her foster-son — " It is too true," he said, '^ and the 
source from which I derived food, when an infant, must 
have communicated to me the wretched — the fated — 
jnopensity to vices that were strangers in my own fami- 
!y. — But goon." 

Jeanie passed slightly over her journey in company with 
' Iddge, having no inclination to repeat what might be the 
Feet of mere raving on the part of her companion, and 
iherefore her tale w^as now closed. 

Young Staunton lay for a moment in profound medita- 
tion, and at length spoke with more composure than he 
had yet displayed during their interview. — " You are a 
sensible, as well as a good young woman, Jeanie Deans, 
nnd I will tell you more of my story than I have tojd to 
any one. — Story did I call it? — it is a tissue of folly, guilt, 
and misery. — But take notice — I do it because J desire 
your confidence in return — that is, that you will act in 
this dismal matter by my advice and direction. There- 
fore do I speak." 

" I will do what is fitting for a sister and a daughter, 
and a Christian woman to do," said Jeanie; "but do not 
tell rae any of your secrets — It is not good that I should 
come into your counsel, or listen to the doctrine which 
causeth to err." 

" Simple fool!" said the young man. "Look at me. 
My head is not horned, my foot is not cloven, my hands 
are not garnished with talons; and since I am not the 
very devil himself, what interest can any one else have in 
destroying the hopes with which you comfort or fool your- 
self? Listen to me patiently, and you will find that, when 
you have heard my counsel, you may go to the seventh hea- 



98 Tales of My Landlord. 

ven with it in your pocket, if you have a mind, and noc 
feel yourself an ounce heavier in the ascent." 

At the risk of being somewhat heavy, as explanations 
usually prove, wc must here endeavour to combine into a 
distinct narrative, information which the invalid commu- 
nicated in a manner at once too circumstantial, and too 
much broken by passion, to admit of our giving his precise 
words. Part of it, indeed, he read from a manuscript, 
which he had perhaps drawn, up for the information of his 
relations after his decease. 

" To make my tale short — this wretched hag — this 
Margaret Murdockson, was the wife of a favourite servant 
of my father: — she had been my nurse;— -her husband was 
dead; — she resided in a cottage near this place;— she had 
a daughter who grew up, and was then a beautiful but 
very giddy girl; — her mother endeavoured to promote her 
marriage with an old and wealthy churl in the neighbour- 
hood; — the girl saw me frequently — She was familiar with 
me, as our connection seemed to permit — -and I — in a 
word, I wronged her cruelly — It was not so bad as your 
sister's business, but it was sufficiently villainous — her 
folly should have been her protection. ■ Soon after this I 
was sent abroad — To do my father justice, if I have turned 
out a fiend it is not his fault — he used the best means. 
When I feturned, I found the wretched mother and daugh- 
ter had fallen into disgrace, and were chased from this 
country. — My deep share in their shame and misery was 
discovered — my father' used very harsh language — we 
quarrelled. I left his house, and led a life of strange ad- 
venture, resolving never again to see my father, or my fa- 
ther's home. 

" And now comes the story! — Jeanic, I put my life into 
your hands, and not only my own life, which, God knows, 
is not worth saving, but the happiness of a respectable 
old man, and the honour of a family of consideration. Mv 
love of low society, as such propensities as I was cursed 
v^^ith are usually termed, was, I think, of an uncommon 
kind, and indicated a nature, which, if not depraved by 
early debauchery, would have been fit for better things 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. 99 

1 did not so much delight in the wild revel, the low humour, 
the unconfiiied liberty of those with whom I associated, as 
in the spirit of adventure, presence of mind in peril, and 
sharpness of intellect which they displayed in prosecuting 
their maraudings upon the revenue, or similar adventures. 
Have you looked round this rectory? — is it not a sweet and 
pleasant retreat?-"' 

Jeanie, alarmed at this sudden change of subject, replied 
in the affirmative. 

" Well! I wish it had been ten thousand fathom under 
ground, with its church-lands, and tithes, and all that be- 
longs to it. Had it not been for this cursed rectory I 
should have been permitted to follow the bent of my own 
inclinations and the profession of arms, and half the cour- 
age and address that I have displayed among smugglers 
and deer-stealers would have secured me an honourable rank 
among my contemporaries. Why did I not go abroad 
wlien I leYtthis house? — Why did I leave it at all.? — W1iy 
— But it came to that point with me that it is madness to 
look back, and misery to look forward." 

He paused, and then went on with more composure. 

" The chances of a wandering life brought me unhappi- 
ly to Scotland, to embroil myself in worse and more cri- 
minal actions than I had yet been concerned in. It was 
now I became acquainted with Wilson, a remarkable man 
in his station of life; quiet, composed, and resolute, firm 
in mind, and uncommonly strong in person, gifted with 
a sort of rough eloquence which raised him above his com- 
panions. Hitherto I had been 

' As dissolute as desperate, yettliroug-h both 
Were seen some sparkles of a better hope.' 

But it was this man's misfortune, as well as mine, that, 
notwithstanding the difference of our rank and education, 
he acquired an extraordinary and fascinating influence 
over me, which I can only account for by the calm deter- 
mination of his character being superior to the less sus- 
tained impetuosity of mine. Where he led I felt myself 



100 Tales of My Landlord. 

bound to follow; and strange was the courage and address 
which he displayed in his pursuits. While I was engaged 
in desperate adventures, under so strange and dangerous a 
preceptor, I became acquainted with your unfortunate 
sister at some sports of the young people in the suburbs, 
which she frequented by stealth — and her ruin proved an 
interlude to the tragic scenes in which I was now deeply 
engaged. Yet this let me say — the villany was not pre- 
meditated, and I was firmly resolved to do her all the jus- 
tice which rnarrias:e could do, so soon as I should be able 
to extricate myself from my unhappy course of life, and 
embrace some one more suited to my birth. — I had wild 
visions — visions of conducting her as if to some poor re- 
treat, and introducing her at once to rank and fortune she 
never dreamt of. A friend, at my request, attempted a 
negotiation with my father, which was protracted for some 
time, and renewed at different intervals. At length, and 
just when I expected my father's pardon, he learned by 
some means or other my infamy, painted in even ex- 
aggerated colours, which was, God knows, unnecessary — 
He wrote me a letter — how it found me out, I know not — 
enclosing me a sum of money, and disowning me for 
ever. — I became desperate — I became frantic — I readily 
joined Wilson in a perilous smuggling adventure in which 
we miscarried, and was willingly blinded by his logic to 
consider the robbery of the officer of the customs in Fife, 
as a fair and honourable reprisal. Hitherto I had ob- 
served a certain line in my criminality, and stood free of 
assaults upon personal property, but now 1 felt a wild 
pleasure in disgracing myself as much as possible. 

" The plunder was no object to me. I abandoned that 
to my comrades, and only asked the post of danger. I 
remember well, that when I stood with my drawn sword 
guarding the door while they committed the felony, I had 
not a thought of my own safety. 1 was only meditating 
on my sense of supposed wrong from my family, my im- 
potent thirst of vengeance, and how it would sound in the 
haughty ears of the family of Willingham, that one of 
Iheiif descendants, and the heir apparent of their honours. 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. 101 

should perish by the hands of tlie hangman for robbing a 
Scotish ganger. We were taken — I expected no less. 
We were condemned — that also I looked for. But death, 
as he approached nearer, looked grimly; and the recollec- 
tion of your sister's destitute condition determined me on 
an effort to save my life. — I forgot to tell you, that in 
Edinburgh I again met the woman Murdockson and her 
daughter. — She had followed the camp when young, and 
had now, under pretence of a trifling traffic, resumed preda- 
tory habits, with which she had already been too familiar. 
Our first meeting was stormy; but I was liberal of what 
money I had, and she forgot, or seemed to forget, the in- 
jury her daughter had received. The unfortunate girl 
herself seemed hardly even to know her seducer, far less 
to retain any sense of the injury she had received. Her 
mind is totally alienated, which, according to her mother's 
account, is sometimes the consequence of an unfavourable 
confmement. But it was my doing. Here was another 
stone knitted round my neck to sink me into the pit of per- 
dition. Every look — every word of this poor creature — 
her false spirits — her imperfect recollections — her allu- 
sions to things Avhich she had forgotten, but which were 
recorded in my conscience, were stabs of a poniard — stabs 
did I say.-^ — they were tearing with hot pincers, and scald- 
ing the raw wound with burning sulphur — they were to 
be endured, however, and they ivere endured. — I return to 
my prison thoughts. 

" It was not the least miserable of them that your 
sister's time approached. I knew her dread of you and 
of her father — She often said she w^ould die a thousand 
deaths ere you should know her shame — yet her confine- 
ment must be provided for. — I knew this woman Mur- 
dockson was an infernal hag, but I thought she loved me, 
and that money would make her true. She had procured 
a file for Wilson, and a spring-saw for me; and she under- 
took readily to take charge of Etlie during her illness, in 
which she had skill enough to give the necessary assist- 
ance. — I gave her the money which my father had sent 
me — It was settled that she should receive Effie into her 

I 2 



102 ' Tales oj My Landlord. 

house in the meantime, and wait for farther direction.s 
from me, when I should effect my escape. I communi- 
cated this purpose, and recommended the old hag to poor 
Effie by a letter, in which I recollect that I endeavoured to 
support the character of Macheath under condemnation — 
a fine, gay, bold-faced ruffian, who is game to the last — 
Such, and so wretchedly poor, was my ambition! Yet 1 
had resolved to forsake the ( ourses I had been engaged in, 
should I be so fortunate as to escape the gibbet. My de- 
sign was to marry your sister, and go over to the West 
Indies. I had still some money left, and ! trusted in one 
way or other to provide for myself and my wife. 

" We made the attempt to escape, and by the obstinacy 
of Wilson, who insisted upon going first, it totally miscar- 
ried. The undaunted and self-denied manner in which 
he sacrificed himself to redeem his error, and accomplish 
my escape from the Tolbooth- Church, you must have 
heard of — all Scotland rang with it. It was a gallant and 
extraordinary deed — All men spoke of it — all men, even 
those who most condemned the habits and crimes of this 
self-devoted man, praised the heroism of his friendship. 
I have many vices, but cowardice, or want of gratitude, 
are none of the number. I resolved to requite his gene- 
rosity, and even your sister's safety became a secondary 
consideration with me for the time. To effect Wilsmi's 
liberation was my principal object, and I doubted not to 
find the means. 

" Yet I did not forget Effie neither. The bloodhounds 
of the law were so close after me, that I dared not trust 
myself near any of my old haunts, but old Murdockson met 
me by appointment, and informed me that your sister had 
happily been delivered of a boy. I charged the hag to 
keep her patient's mind easy, and let her w^ant for nothing 
that money could purchase, and I retreated to those places 
of concealment where the men engaged in Wilson's des- 
perate trade are used to hide themselves and their uncus- 
tomed goods. Men who are disobedient both to human 
and divine laws, are not always insensible to the claims 
of courage and generosity. We were assured that the 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. 103 

niolj of Edinburgh, strongly moved with the hardship of 
Wilson's situation, and the gallantry of his conduct, would 
back any bold attempt that might be made to rescue him 
even from the foot of the gibbet. Desperate as the at- 
tempt seemed, upon my declaring myself ready to lead the 
onset on the guard, I found no want of followers who en- 
gaged to stand by me. 

" I have no doubt I should have rescued him from the 
very noose that dangled over his head," he continued with 
animation, which seemed a tlash of the interest which he 
had taken in such exploits; " but amongst other pre- 
cautions, the magistrates had taken one, suggested, 
as we afterwards learned, by the unhappy wretch 
Porteous, which effectually disconcerted my measures. 
They anticipated, by half an hour, the ordinary period for 
execution; and, as it had been resolved amongst us, that, 
for fear of observation from the officers of justice, we 
should not show ourselves upon the street until the time of 
action approached, it followed that all was over before our 
attempt at a rescue commenced. It did commence, how- 
ever, and I gained the scaffold, and cut the rope with my 
own hand. It was too late! The bold, stout-hearted, 
generous criminal was no more — and vengeance was all 
that remained to us — a vengeance, as I then thought, 
dejibly due from my hand, to wliom Wilson had given life 
and liberty when he could as easily have secured his own." 

" 0, sir," said Jeanie, " did the Scripture never come 
■nto your mind, ' Vengeance is mine, and I Vv^ill repay it?' " 
- ^'Scripture? Why, I had not opened a Bible for five 
years," answered Staunton. 

''Waes me, sirs," said Jeanie — "and a minister's son too !" 

" It is natural for you to say so; yet do not interrupt 
me, but let me finish my most accursed history. The beast, 
Porteous, who kept firing on the people long after it had 
ceased to be necessary, became the object of their hatred 
for hafving over-done his duty, and of mine for having done 
it too well. We — that is, I and other determined friends 
of Wilson, resolved to be avenged — but caution was ne- 
cessary. I thought I had been marked by one of the offi- 



104 Tales of My Landlord. 

cers, and therefore continued to lurk about the vicinity of 
Edinburgh, but without daring to venture within the walls. 
At length I visited, at the hazard of my life, the place 
where I hoped to find my future wife and my son — they 
were both gone. Dame Murdockson informed me that 
so soon as Effie heard of the miscarriage of the attempt to 
rescue Wilson, and the hot pursuit after me, she fell into a 
brain fever; and that being one day obliged to go out on 
some necessary business and leave her alone, she had taken 
that opportunity to escape, and she had not seen her since. 
i loaded her with reproaches, to which she listened with 
the most provoking and callous composure; for it is one of 
her atU'ibutes, that, violent and fierce as she is upon most 
occasions, there are some in which she shews the most im- 
perturbable calmness, I threatened her with justice; she 
said I had more reason to fear justice than she had. I 
felt she was right, and was silenced. I threatened her 
with vengeance; she replied in nearly the same words, 
that, to judge by injuries received, I had more reason to 
fear her vengeance, than she to dread mine. She was 
again right, and I was left without an answer. 1 flung 
myself from her in indignation, and employed a comrade 
to make enquiry in the neighbourhood of Saint Leonard's 
concerning your sister; but ere I received his answer, the 
opening quest of a well-scented terrierof the law drove me 
from the vicinity of Edinburgh to a more distant and se- 
cluded place of concealment. A secret and trusty emis- 
sary at length brought me the account of Porteous's con- 
demnation, and of your sister's imprisonment on a criminal 
charge; thus astounding one of mine ears, wdiile he gra- 
tified the other. 

" I again ventured to the Pleasance — again charged 
Murdockson with treachery to the unfortunate Effie and 
her child, though I could conceive no reason, save that of 
appropriating the whole of the money I had lodged with 
her. Your narrative throws light on this, and shews ano- 
ther motive, not less powerful because less evident — the 
desire of wreaking vengeance on the seducer of her daugh= 
ter, — the destroyer at ojace of her reason and reputation 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. 105 

^jrieat God! how I wish that, instead of the revenge she 
made choice of, she had delivered me up to the cord!" 

*"' But what account did the wretched woman give of 
Effie and the bairn?" said Jeanie, who, during this long and 
agitating narrative, had firmness and discernment enough 
to keiep her eye on such points as might throw light on her 
sister's misfortunes. 

'' She would give none," said Staunton; " she said the 
mother made a moonlight flitting frgm her house, with the 
infant in her arms — that she had never seen either of them 
since — that the lass might have thrown the child into the 
North Loch or the Quarry-Holes, for what she knew, and 
it was like enough she had done so." 

'' And how came you to believe that she did not speak 
the fatal truth?" said Jeanie, trembling. 

" Because, on this second occasion, I saw her daughter, 
and I understood from her, that, in fact, the child had been 
removed or destroyed during the illness of the mother. 
But all knowledge to be got from her is so uncertain and 
indirect, that I could not collect any farther circumstances. 
Only the diabolical character of old Murdockson makes me 
augur the worst." 

'' The last account agrees with that given by my poor 
sister," said Jeanie; " but gang on wi' your ain tale, 
sir." 

" Of this I am certain," said Staunton, " that Effie, in 
her senses, and with her knowledge, never injured living 
creature — But what could I do in her exculpation?— No- 
thing — and, therefore, my whole thoughts were turned to- 
ward her safety. I was under the cursed necessity of sup- 
pressing my feelings towards Murdockson; my life was 
in ihe hag's hand — that I cared not for; but on my life 
hung that of your sister. * I spoke the wretch fair; I ap- 
peared to confide in her; and to me, so far as I was per- 
sonally concerned, she gave proofs of extraordinary fideli- 
ty. I was at first uncertain what measures I ought to 
adopt for your sister's liberation, when the general rage 
excited among the citizens of Edinburgh on account of the 
reprieve of Porteous, suggested to me the daring idea oi 



106 Tales of My Landlord. 

forcing the jail, and at once carrying off your sister from 
the chitches of the law, and bringing to condign punish- 
ment a miscreant, who had tormented the unfortunate 
Wilson, even in the hour of death, as if he had been a 
wild Indian taken captive by an hostile tribe. I flung 
myself among the multitude in the moment of fermenta- 
tion — so did others among Wilson's mates, who had, like 
me, been disappointed in the hope ofglutting their eyes with 
Porteous's execution. ^All was organized, and I was cho- 
sen for the captain. I felt not — I do not now feel, com- 
punclion for what was to be done, and has since been ex- 
ecuted." 

" God forgive ye, sir, and bring you to a better 
sense of your ways!" exclaimed Jeanie, in horror at the 
avowal of such violent sentiments. 

" Amen," replied Staunton, " if my sentiments are 
wrong. But I repeat, that, although willing to aid the 
deed, I could have wished them to have chosen another 
leader; because I foresaw that the great and general 
duty of the night would interfere with the assistance 
which I proposed to render Effie. I gave a commis- 
sion, however, to a trusty friend to protect her to a place 
of safety, so soon as the fatal procession had left the jail. 
But for no persuasions which I could use in the hurry 
of the moment, or which my comrade employed at more 
length, after the mob had taken a different direction, 
could the unfortunate girl be prevailed upon to leave the 
prison. His arguments were all wasted upon the infa- 
tuated victim, and he was obliged to leave her in order 
to attend to his own safety. Such was his account; but, 
perhaps, he persevered less steadily la his attempt to per- 
suade her than I would have done." 

" Effie was right to remain," said Je;uiie; " and I love 
her the better for it." 

"•' Why will you say so?" said Staunton. 

" You cannot understand my reasons, sir, if I should 
render them," answered Jeanie, composedly; " they that 
thirst for the blood of their enemies have no taste for the 
well-spring of life." 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. Wi 

• My hopes," said Staunton, " were thus a second 
time disappointed. My next etTorts were to bring her 
through her trial by means of yourself. How I urg'^d it, 
and where, you cannot have forgotten. I do not blame 
you for your refusal; it was founded, I am convinced, on 
principle, and not on indifference to your sister's fate. 
For me, judge of me as a man frantic; I knew not what 
hand to turn to, and all my efforts were unavailing. In 
this condition, and close beset on all sides, I thought of 
what might be done by means of my family, and their 
influence. I fled from Scotland — I reached this place- — 
my miserably wasted and unhappy appearance procured 
me from my father that pardon, which a parent finds it 
so hard to refuse, even to the most undeserving son. And 
here I have awaited in anguish of mind, which the 
condemned criminal might envy, the event of your sis- 
ter's trial." 

"Without taking any steps for her relief?" said 
.leanie. ' 

" To the last I hoped her case might terminate more 
favourably; and it is only two days since that the fatal 
tidings reached me. My resolution was instantly taken. 
I mounted my best horse for the purpose of making the 
utmost haste to London, and there compounding with 
Sir Robert Walpole for your sister's safety, by surren- 
dering to him, in person of the heir of the family of Wil- 
lingham, the notorious George Robertson, the accomplice 
of Wilson, the breaker of the Tolbooth prison, and the 
well-known leader of the Porteous mob." 

" But would that save my sister?" said Jeanie in aston- 
ishment. 

^' It would, as I should drive my bargain," said Staun- 
ton. " Queens love revenge as well as their subjects — 
Little as you seem to esteem it, it is a poison which pleases 
all palates from the prince to the peasant. — The life of 
an obscure villager? Why, I might ask the best of the 
crown-jewels for laying the head of such an insolent con- 
spiracy at the foot of her majesty, with a certainty of 
being gratified. All my other plans have failed, but this 



108 Tales of My Landlord. 

could not. — Heaven is just, however, and would not ho- 
nour me with making this voluntary atonement for the 
injury I have done your sister. I had not rode ten 
miles, when my horse, the best and most^ sure-fooled ani- 
mal in this country, fell wiih me on a level piece of 
road, as if he had been struck by a cannon-shot. I was 
greatly hurt, and was brought back here in the condition 
in which you now see me." 

As young S aunton had come to the conclusion, the 
servant opened the door, and, with a voice which seemed 
intended rather for a signal, than merely the announcing 
of a visit, said, "- His Reverence, sir, is coming up stairs 
to wait upon you." 

'' For God's sake, hide yourself, Jeanie," exclaimed 
Staunton, " in that dressing closet!" 

" No, sir," said Jeanie; " as I am here for nae ill, I 
canna take the shame of hiding myself frae the master o' 
the house." 

"But, good Heavens!" exclaimed George Staunton, 
" do but consider" 

Ere he could complete the sentence, his father entered 
the apartment. 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 109 



CHAPTER IX. 

And now, will pardon, comfort, kindness, draw 
Tlie youth from vice ? v/ill honour, duty, law ? 

Crabbe. 

Jeanie arose from her seat, and made her quiet reve- 
rence, when the elder Mr. Staunton entered the apart- 
ment. His astonishment was extreme at finding his son 
in such company. 

" I perceive, madam, I have made a mistake respect- 
ing you, and ought to have left the task of interrogating 
you, and of righting your wrongs, to this young man, 
with whom, doubtless, you have been formerly acquaint- 
ed." 

" It's unwitting on my part that I am here," said Jeanie; 
' the servant told me his master wished to speak to me." 

" There goes the purple coat over my ears," murmured 
Tummas. " D — n her, why must she needs speak the 
truth, when she could have as well said any thing else she 
had a mind?" 

" George," said Mr Staunton, " if you are still — as you 
have ever been — lost to all self-respect, you might at least 
have spared your father, and your father's house, such a 
disgraceful scene as this." 

" Upon my life — ^upon my soul, sir!" said George, 
throwing his feet over the side of the bed, and starting 
from his recumbent posture. 

" Your life, sir!" interrupted his father, with melan- 
choly sternness, — "What sort of life has it been? — Your 
soul! alas! what regard have you ever paid to it? Take 
care to reform both ere offering either as pledges of your 
sincerity." 

" On my honour, sir, you do me wrong," answered 
George Staunton; " I have been all that you can call me 

VOL u. K 



1 10 Talcs of My Landlord. 

that's bad, but in the present instance you do me injustice 
By my honour, you do!" 

" Your honour!" said his father, and turned from him^ 
with a look of the most upbraiding contempt, to Jeanie= 
" From you, young woman, I neither ask nor expect any 
explanation; but, as a father alike and as a clergyman, I 
request your departure from this house. If your romantic 
story has been other than a pretext to find admission into 
it, (which, from the society in which you first appeared, 
I may be permitted to doubt,) you will find a justice of 
peace within two miles, with whom, more properly than 
with me, you may lodge your complaint." 

" This shall not be," said George Staunton, starting up 
to his feet. " Sir, you are naturally kind and humane — 
you shall not become cruel and inhospitable on my ac- 
count — Turn out that eves-dropping rascal," pointing to 
Thomas, " and get what hartshorn drops, or what better 
receipt you have against fainting, and I will explain to 
you in two words the connection betwixt this young 
woman and me. She shall not lose her fair character 
through me — I have done too much mischief to her family 
already, and I know too well what belongs to the loss of 
fame." 

" Leave the room, sir," ssid the Rector to the servant; 
and when the man had obeyed, he carefully shut the door 
behind him, and then addressing his son, he said sternly, 
" Now, sir, what new proof of your infamy have you to 
impart to me?" 

Young Staunton was about to speak, but it was one of 
those moments when those, who, like Jeanie Deans, pos- 
sess the advantage of a steady courage and unruffled 
temper, can assume the superiority over more ardent but 
less determined spirits. 

" Sir," she said to the elder Staunton, " ye have an 
undoubted right to ask your ain son to render a reason of 
his conduct. But respecting me, I am but a way-faring 
traveller, no ways obligated or indebted to you, unless it 
be for the meal of meat which, in my ain country, is 
willingly gien by rich or poor, according to their ability, 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. lU 

to those who need it; and for which, forbye that, I ani 
willing to make payment, if I didna think it would be an 
affront to offer siller in a house like this — only I dinna ken 
the fashions of the country." 

'' This is all very well, young woman," said the Rector, 
a good deal surprised, and unable to conjecture whether 
to impute Jeanie's language to simplicity or impertinence 
— " this may be all very well — but let me bring it to a 
point. Why do you stop this young man's mouth, and 
prevent his communicating to his father and his best friend, 
an explanation (since he says he has one) of circum- 
stances which seem in themselves not a little suspicious?" 

" He may tell of his ain affairs what he likes," answer- 
ed Jeanie; ''•but my family and friends have nae right to 
hae ony stories told anent them without their express de- 
sire; and, as they canna be here to speak for themselves, I 
entreat ye wadna ask Mr George Rob — I mean Staunton, 
or whatever his name is, ony questions anent me or my 
folk; for I maun be free to tell you, that he will neither 
have the bearing of a Christian or a gentleman, if he an- 
swers you against my express desire." 

" This is the most extraordinary thing I ever met with,'^ 
said the Rector, as, after fixing his eyes keenly on the 
placid, yet modest countenance of Jeanie, he turned them 
suddenly upon his son. " What have you to say, sir.''" 

" That I feel I have been too hasty in my promise, sir," 
answered George Staunton; " I have no title to make any 
communications respecting the affairs of this young per- 
son's family without her assent." 

The elder Mr Staunton turned his eyes from one to the 
other with marks of surprise. 

" This is more, and worse, I fear," he said, addressing 
his son, " than one of your frequent and disgraceful con- 
nections — I insist upon knowing the mystery." 

" I have already said, sir," replied his son, rather sul- 
lenly, " that I have no title to mention the affairs of this 
young woman's family without her consent." 

" And I hae nae mysteries to explain, sir," said Jeanie, 
"but only to pray you, as a preacher of the gospel and a 



1 U Tales of My Landlord 

gentleman, to permit me to go safe to the next public-house 
on the Lunnon road." 

" I shall take care of your safety," said young Staun- 
ton; *' you need ask that favour from no one." 

" Do you say so before my face?" said the justly in- 
censed father. " Perhaps, sir, you intend to fill up the 
cup of disobedience and profligacy by forming a low and 
disgraceful marriage? But let me bid you beware." 

" If you were feared for sic a thing happening wi' me, 
sir," said Jeanie, " I can only say, that not for all the land 
that lies between the twa ends of the rainbow wad I be 
the woman that should wed your son." 

" There is something very singular in all this," said 
the elder Staunton; "follow me into the next room, young 
woman." 

" Hear me speak first," said the young man. " I 
have but one word to say. I confide entirely in your pru- 
dence; tell my father as much or as little of these matters 
as you will, he shall know neither more or less from me." 

His father darted at him a glance of indignation, which 
softened into sorrow as he saw him sink down on the 
couch, exhausted with the scene he had undergone. He 
left the apartment and Jeanie followed him, George 
Staunton raising himself as she passed the door- way, and 
pronouncing the word, " Remember?" in a tone as moni- 
tory as it was .uttered by Charles I. upon the scaffold. 
The elder Staunton led the way into a small parlour, and 
shut the door. 

" Young woman," said he, " there is something in your 
face and appearance that marks both sense and simplicity, 
and, if I am not deceived, mnocence also — Should it be 
otherwise, I can only say, you are the most accomplished 
hypocrite I have ever seen.— I ask to know no secret that 
you have unwillingness to divulge, least of all those which 
concern my son. His conduct has given me too much 
unhappiness to permit me to hope comfort or satisfaction 
from him. If you are such as I suppose you, believe me, 
that whatever unhappy circumstances may have connect^ 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. 1 1 ^ 

ed you with George Staunton, the sooner you break them 
through the better." 

" 1 think I understand your meaning, sir," replied 
Jeanie; " and as ye are sae frank as to speak o' the young 
gentleman in sic a way, I must needs say that it is but the 
second time of my speaking wi' him in our lives, and 
what I hae heard frae him on these twa occasions has 
been such that I never wish to hear the like again." 

'^ Tiien it is your real intention to leave this part of the 
country, and proceed to London?" said the Rector. 

"• Certainly, sir; for I may say, in one sense, that the 
avenger of blood is behind me; and if I were but assured 
against mischief by the way " 

" I have made enquiries," said the clergyman, " after 
the suspicious characters you described. They have left 
their place of rendezvous; but as they may be lurking in 
the neighbourhood, and as you say you have special reason 
to apprehend violence from them, 1 will put you under 
the charge of a steady person, who will protect you as far 
as Stamford, and see you into a light coach, which goes 
from thence to London." 

" A coach is not for the like of me, sir," said Jeanie; to 
whom the idea of a stage-coach was unknown, as indeed 
they were then only used in the neighbourhood of Lon- 
don. 

Mr Staunton briefly explained that she would find that 
mode of conveyance more commodious, cheaper, and more 
safe than travelling on horseback. She expressed her 
gratitude with so much singleness of heart, that he was in- 
duced to ask her whether she wanted tlie pecuniary means 
of prosecuting her journey. She thanked him, but said 
she had enough for her purpose, and indeed she had hus- 
banded her stock with great care. This reply served 
also to remove some doubts, which naturally enough still 
floated in Mr Staunton's mind, respecting her character 
and real purpose, and satisfied him, at least, that money 
did not enter into her scheme of deception, if an impostor 
she should prove. He next requested to know what part 
of the city she wished to go to. 
K 2 



114 Tales of My- Landlord, 

" To a very decent merchant, a cousin o' my ain, g 
Mrs Glass, sir, that sells snuff and tobacco, at the sign o' 
the Thistle, some gate in the town." 

Jeanie communicated this intelligence with a feeling 
that a connection so respectable ought to give her conse- 
quence in the eyes of Mr Staunton; and she was a good 
deal surprised when he answered, 

" And is this woman your only acquaintance in Lon- 
don, my poor girl ? and have you really no better knowledge 
where she is to be found?" 

" I was gaun to see the Duke of Argyle, forbye Mrs 
Glass," said Jeanie; " and if your honour thinks it would 
4ae best to go there first, and get some of his Grace's folks 
to show me my cousin's shop " 

" Are you acquainted with any of the Duke of Argyle's 
people?" said the Rector. 

'' No, sir." 

" Her brain must be something touched after all, 6r it 
would be impossible for her to rely on such introductions. 
— Well," said he aloud, " I must not enquire into the 
cause of your journey, and so I cannot be fit to give you 
advice how to manage it. But the landlady of the house 
where the coach stops, is a very decent person; and, as I 
yse her house sometimes, I will give you a recommenda- 
tion to her." 

Jeanie thanked him for his kindness with her best cour- 
tesy, and said, " That with his honour's line, and ane 
from worihy MrsBickerton, that keeps the Seven Stars at 
York, she did not doubt to be w ell taken out in Lunnon." 

" And now," said he, " I presume you will be desirous 
to set out immediately." 

" If I had been in an inn, sir, or any suitable resting 
place," answered Jeanie, " I wad not have presumed to 
use the Lord's day for travelling; but as I am on a journey 
of mercy, I trust my doing so will not be imputed." 

" You may, if you chuse, remain with Mrs Dalton for 
the evening; but I desire you will have no further corres- 
pondence with my son, who is not a proper counsellor for 
a person of your age, whatever your difficulties may be." 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. ! I & 

"Your honour speaks ower truly in that,** said Jeanie; 
*' it was not with my will that I spoke wi' him just now, 
and — not to wish the gentleman ony thing but gude — I 
never wish to see him between the een again." 

"" If you please," added the Rector, " as you seem to be 
a seriously disposed young woman, you may attend family 
worship in the hall this evening." 

" I thank your honour," said Jeanie; " but I am doubt- 
ful if my attendance would be to edification." 

" How!" said the Rector; " so young, and already un- 
fortunate enough to have doubts upon the duties of reli- 
gion." 

"• God forbid, sir^" replied Jeanie; " it is not for that; 
but I have been bred in the faith of the laffering remnant 
of the presbyterian doctrine in Scotland, and I am doubt- 
ful if I can lawfully attend upon your fashion of worship, 
seeing it has been testified against by many precious souls 
of our kirk, and specially by my worthy father." 

" Well, my good girl," said the Rector, with a good 
humoured smile, " far be it from me to put any force upon 
your conscience; and yet you ought to recollect that the 
same divine grace dispenses its streams to other kingdoms, 
as well as to Scotland. As it is as essential to our spirit- 
tual, as water to our earlhly wants, its springs various in 
character, yet alike efficacious in virtue, are to be found in 
abundance throughout the Christian world." 

" Ah, but," said Jeanie, " though the waters may be 
alike, yet, with your worship's leave, theblessing upon them 
may not be equal. It would have been in vain forNaa- 
man the Syrianleper to have bathed inPharpharand Abana, 
rivers of Damascus, when it was only the w aters of Jordan 
that were sanctified for the cure." 

" Well," said the Rector, " we will not enter upon the 
great debate betwixt our national churches at present. We 
must endeavour to satisfy you, that, at least, amongst our 
errors, we preserve Christian charity, and a desire to assist 
our brethren." 

He then ordered Mrs Dalton into his presence, and con- 
signed Jeanie to her particular charge, with directions to be 



116 Tales of My Landlord. 

kind to her, and with assurances, that, early in the morn- 
ing, a trusty guide and a good horse should be ready to 
conduct her to Stamford. He then took a serious and dig- 
nified, yet kind leave of her, wishing her full success in the 
objects of her journey, which he said he doubted not were 
laudable, from the soundness of thinking which she had 
displayed in conTersation. 

Jeanie was again conducted by the housekeeper to her 
own apartment. But the evening was not destined to pass 
over without further torment from young Staunton. A 
paper was slipped into her hand by the faitiiful Tummas, 
which intimated his young master's desire, or rather de- 
mand, to see her instantly, and assured her he had provided 
against interruption. 

'' Tell your young master," said Jeanie, openly, and re- 
gardless of all the winks and signs by which Tummas 
strove to make her comprehend that Mrs Dalton was not 
to be admitted into the secret of the correspondence, '•'■ that 
I promised faithfully to his worthy father that I would not 
see him again." 

" Tummas," said Mrs Dalton, " I think you might be 
much more creditably employed, considering the coat you 
wear, and the house you live in, than to be carrying mes- 
sages between your young master and girls that chance to 
be in this house." 

" Why, Mrs Dalton, as to that, I was hired to carry 
messages, and not to ask any quesiions about them; and 
it's not for the like of me to refuse the young gentleman's 
bidding, if he were a little wildish or so. — If there was 
harm meant, there's no harm done, you see." 

" However," said Mrs Dalton, " I gi'e 3 ou fair warn- 
ing, Tummas Ditton, that an I catch thee at this work 
again, his Reverence shall make a clear house of you." 

Thomas retired, abashed and in dismay. The rest 
of the evening past away without any thing worthy of 
notice. 

Jeanie enjoyed the comforts of a good bed and a sound 
sleep with grateful satisfaction, after the perils and hard- 
ships of the preceding day; and such was her fatigue, that 



The Heart of Mid-Lothicm. IH 

she slept soundly until six o'clock, when she was awakened 
by Mrs Dalton, who acquainted her that her guide and 
horse were ready, and attendance. She hastily rose, and, 
after her morning devotions, was soon ready to resume her 
travels. The motherly care of the housekeeper had pro- 
vided an early breakfast, and, after she had partaken of 
this refreshment, she found herself safe seated on a pillion 
behind a stout Lincolnshire peasant, who was, besides, 
armed with pistols, to protect her against any violence 
which might be offered. 

They trudged along in silence for a mile or two along a 
country road, which conducted them, by hedge and gate- 
way, into the principal highway, a little begond Grant- 
ham. At length her master of the horse asked her whether 
her name was not Jean, or Jane Deans. She answered 
in the affirmative, with some surprise. " Then here's a 
bit of a note as concerns you," said the man, handing it 
over his left shoulder. " It's from young master, as I 
judge, and every man about Willingham is fain to pleasure 
him either for love or fear; for he'll come to be landlord at 
last, let them say what they like." 

Jeanie broke the seal of the note, which was addressed 
to her, and read as follows : 

" You refuse to see me. I suppose you are shocked at 
my character: but, in painting myself such as I am, you 
should give me credit for my sincerity. I am, at least, no 
hypocrite. You refuse, however, to see me, and your con- 
duct may be natural — but is it wise? I have expressed my 
anxiety to repair your sister's misfortunes at the expence 
of my honour, — my family's honour — my own life; and 
you think me too debased to be admitted even to sacrifice 
what I have remaining of honour, fame, and life, in her 
cause. Well, if the offerer be despised, the victim is still 
equally at hand; and perhaps there may be justice in the 
decree of Heaven, that I shall not have the melancholy 
credit of appearing to make this sacrifice out of my own 
free good-will. You, as you have declined my concur- 
rence, must take the whole upon yourself. Go, then, to 
the Duke of Argyle, and, when other arguments fail you, 



118 Tales of My Landlord. 

tell him you have it in your power to bring to condign 
punishment the most active conspirator in the Porteous 
mob. He w^ill hear you on this topic, should he be deaf 
on every other. Make your own terms, for they will be 
at your own making. You know where I am to be found; 
and you may be assured I will not give you the dark side 
of the hill, as at Muschat's Cairn; I have no thoughts of 
stirring from the house I was born in; like the hare, I shall 
be w^orried in the seat I started from. I repeat it- — make 
your own terms. I need not remind you to ask your 
sister's life, for that you will do of course; but make terms 
of advantage for yourself — ask wealth and reward — office 
and income for Butler — ask any thing — you will get any 
thing — and all for delivering to the hands of the execution- 
er a man most deserving of his office; — one who, though 
young in years, is old in wickedness, and whose most 
earnest desire is, after the storms of an unquiet life, to 
sleep and be at rest." 

This extraordinary letter was subscribed with the ini- 
tials G. S. 

Jeanie read it over once or twice with great attention, 
which the slow pace of the horse, as he stalked through a 
deep lane, enabled her to do with facility. 

When she had perused this billet, her first employment 
was to tear it into as small pieces as possible, and disperse 
these pieces in the air by a few at a time, so that a docu- 
ment containing so perilous a secret might not fall into any 
other person's hand. 

The question how far, in point of extremity, she was 
entitled to save her sister's life by sacrificing that of a per- 
son who, though guilty towards the state, had done her no 
injury, formed the next earnest and most painful subject 
of consideration. In one sense, indeed, it seemed as if de- 
nouncing the guilt of Staunton, the cause of her sister's 
errors and misfortunes, would have been an act of just, 
and even providential retribution. But Jeanie, in the 
strict and severe tone of morality in which she was edu- 
cated, had to consider not only the general aspect of a 
proposed action, but its justness and fitness in relation to 



The Heart of Mid-Lothiait. 1 1 9 

the actor, before she could be, according to her own 
phrase, free to enter upon it. What right had she to make 
a barter between the lives of Staunton and of Effie, and to 
sacrifice the one for the safety of the other? His guilt — 
that guilt for which he was amenable to the laws — was a 
crime against the public, indeed, but it was not against 
her. 

Neither did it seem to her that his share in the death of 
Porteous, though her mind revolted at the idea of using 
violence to any one, was in the relation of a common 
murder, against the perpetrator of which every one is 
called to aid the public magistrate. That violent action 
was blended with many circumstances, which, in the eyes 
of those of Jeanie's rank in life, if they did not altogether 
deprive it of the character of guilt, softened, at least, its 
most atrocious features. The anxiety of the government 
to obtain conviction of some of the offenders, had but 
served to increase the public feeling which connected the 
action, though violent and irregular, with the idea of 
ancient national independence. The rigorous measures 
adopted or proposed against the city of Edinburgh, the 
ancient metropolis of Scotland — the extremely unpopular 
and injudicious measure of compelling the clergy to promul- 
gate from the pulpit the reward offered for the discovery of 
the perpetrators of this slaughter, had produced on the public 
mind the opposite consequences from what were intended; 
and Jeanie felt conscious, that whoever should lodge in- 
formation concering that event, and for whatsoever purpose 
it might be done, it would be considered as an act of 
treason against the independence of Scotland. With the 
fanaticism of the Scotch presbyterians, there was always 
mingled a glow of national feeling, and Jeanie trembled 
at the idea of her name being handed down to posterity with 
that of the " fause Monteath," and one or two others, who, 
having deserted and betrayed the cause of their coun- 
try, are damned to perpetual remembrance and execration 
among its peasantry. Yet, to part with Effie's life once 
more, when a word spoken might save it, pressed se- 
verely on the mind of her affectionate sister. 



1^0 Tales of My Landlord. 

" The Lord support and direct me," said Jeanie, " for 
it seems to be his will to try me with difficulties far 
beyond my ain strength." 

While this thought passed through Jeanie's mind, her 
guard, tired of silence, began to show some inclination to 
be communicative. He seemed a sensible steady peasant, 
but not having more delicacy or prudence than is com- 
mon to those in his situation, he, of course, chose the 
Willingham family as the subject of his conversation. 
From this man Jeanie learned some particulars of which 
she had hitherto been ignorant, and which we will brief- 
ly recapitulate for the information of the reader. 

The father of George Staunton had been bred a sol- 
dier, and during service in the West Indies, had mar- 
ried the heiress of a wealthy planter. By this lady he 
had an only child, George Staunton, the unhappy young 
man who has been so often mentioned in this narrative. 
He passed the first part of his early youth under the charge 
of a doting mother, and in the society of negro slaves, whose 
study it was to gratify his every caprice. His father was a 
man of worth and of sense; but as he alone retained tole- 
rable health among the officers of the regiment he be- 
longed to, he was much engaged with his duty. Besides, 
Mrs Staunton was beautiful dud wilful, and enjoyed but de- 
licate health; so that it was difficult for a man of affec- 
tion, humanity, and a quiet disposition, to struggle with 
her on the point of her over-indulgence to an only child. 
Indeed what Mr Staunton did do towards counteracting 
the baneful effects of his wife's system, only tending to 
render it more pernicious, for every restraint imposed on 
the boy in his father's presence, was compensated by 
treble license during his absence. So that George Staun- 
ton acquired, even in childhood, the habit of regarding his 
father as a rigid censor, from whose severity he was de- 
sirous of emancipating himself as soon and absolutely as 
possible. 

When he was about ten years old, and when his 
mind had received all the seeds of those evil weeds which 
afterwards grew apace, his mother died, and his father, 



Hie Heart of Mid-Lolhian. VZ\ 

iiaif heart-broken returned to England. To sum up 
her imprudence and unjustifiable indulgence, she had 
contrived to place a considerable part of her fortune at 
her son's exclusive control or disposal, in consequence of 
which management, George Staunton had not been long 
in England till he learned his independence, and how 
to abuse it. His father had endeavoured to rectify the 
defects of his education by placing him in a well re- 
gulated seminary. But although he showed some capa- 
city for learning, his riotous conduct soon became in- 
tolerable to his teachers. He found means (too easily 
afforded to all youths who have certain expectations) of 
procuring such a command of money as enabled him 
to anticipate in boyhood the frolics and follies of a 
more mature age; and with these accomplishments, he 
was returned on his father's hands as a profligate boy, 
whose example might ruin an hundred. 

The elder Mr Staunton, whose mind, since his wife's 
death, had been tinged with a melancholy, which cer- 
tainly his son's conduct did not tend to dispel, had 
taken orders, and was inducted by his brother Sir Wil- 
liam Staunton into the ♦ family living of Willingham. 
The revenue was a matter of consequence to him, for 
he derived little advantage from the estate of his late 
wife; and his own fortune was that of a younger bro- 
ther. 

He took his son to reside with him at the rectory, but 
he soon found that his disorders rendered him an intolera- 
ble inmate. And as the young men of his own rank 
would not endure the purse-proud insolence of the Creole, 
he fell into that taste for low society, which is worse than 
■'• pressing to deal*i, whipping, or hanging." His father 
sent him abroad, but he only returned wilder and more 
desperefte than before. It is true, this unhappy youth was 
not without his good qualities. He had lively wit, good 
temper, reckless generosity, and manners which, while he 
was under restraint, might pass well in society. But all 
these availed him nothing. He was so well acquainted 
with the turfj the gaming-table, the cock-pit, and every 

L 



122 Tales of My Landlord. 

worse rendezvous of folly and dissipation, that his mother^s 
fortune was spent before he was twenty-one, and he was 
soon in debt and in distress. His early history may be 
concluded in the words of our British Juvenal, when des- 
cribing a similar character: — 

Headstrong, determined in his own career, 
He thoug-ht reproof unjust and truth severe. 
The soul'sMisease was to its crisis come, 
He first abused and then abjured his home ; 
And when he chose a vagabond to be, 
He made his shame his glory, " I'll be free." 

*•' And yet 'tis pity on Measter George, too," continued 
the honest boor, " for he has an open hand, and winna let 
a poor body want, an' he has it." 

The virtue of profuse generosity, by which, indeed, 
they themselves are most directly advantaged, is readily 
admitted by the vulgar as a cloak for many sins. 

At Stamford our heroine was deposited in safety by her 
communicative guide. She obtained a place in the 
coach, which, although termed a light one, and accommo- 
dated with no fewer than six horses, only reached London 
on the afternoon of the second day. The recommenda- 
tion of the elder Mr Staunton procured Jeanie a civil 
reception at the inn where the carriage stopped, and, by 
the aid of Mrs Bickerton's correspondent, she found out 
her friend and relative Mrs Glass, by whom she was kind- 
ly received and hospitably entertained. 






The Heart ofJMid'Lolhian. ' 123" 



CHAPTER X. 



My name is Argyle, you may well think it strange, 
To live at the court, and never to clumge. 

Ballad. 



FEW'names deserve more honourable mention in the 
histoiT of Scotland during this period, than that of John, 
Duke of Argyle and Greenwich. His talents as a states- 
man and a soldier were generally admitted; he was not 
without ambition, but " without the illness that attends 
it" — without that irregularity of thought and aim, which 
often excites great men, in his peculiar situation, (for it 
was a very peculiar one,) to grasp the means of raising 
themselves to power, at the risk of throwing a kingdom 
into confusion. Pope has distinguished him as 

Argyle, the state's v.iioie thunder born to wield, 
And shake alike the senate and the field. 

He w^as alike free from (he ordinary vi^es of statesmen, 
namely, falsehood and dissimulation, and from those of 
warriors, inordinate and violent thirst after self-aggran- 
dizement. 

Scotland, his native country, stood at this time in a 
very precarious and doubtful situation. She was indeed 
united to England, but the cement had not had time to 
acquire consistence. The irritation of ancient wrongs 
still subsisted, and betwixt the fretful jealousy of the Scot- 
ish, and the supercilious disdain of the English, quarrels 
repeatedly occurred, in the course of which the national 
league, so important to the safety of both, was in the ut- >0 
most danger of being dissolved. Scotland had, besides, 
the disadvantage of being divided into intestine factions, 
which hated each other bitterly, and waited but a signal to 
!?rcak forth into action. 



1 24 Tales of My Landlord. 

In such circumstances, another man, with the talents 
and rank of Argyle, but without a mind so happih' regu- 
lated, would have sought to rise from the earth in the whirl- 
wind, and direct its fury. He chose a course more safe 
and more honourable. 

Soaring above the petty distinctions of faction, his voice 
was raised, whether in office or opposition, for those mea- 
sures which were at once just and lenient. His high mili- 
tary talents enabled him, during the memorable year 1715, 
to render such services to the house of Hanover, as, per- 
haps, were too great to be either acknowledged or repaid. 
He had employed, too, his utmost influence in softening 
the consequences of that insurrection to the unfortunate 
gentlemen, whom a mistaken sense of loyalty had engaged 
in the affair, and ^vas rewarded by the esteem and aftec- 
tion of his country in an uncommon degree. This popu- 
larity, with a discontented and warlike people, was sup- 
posed to be a subject of jealousy at court, wdiere the 
powder to become dangerous is sometimes of itself ob- 
noxious, though the inclination is not united with it. 
Besides, the Duke of Argyle's independent and somewhat 
haughty mode of expressing himself in parliament, and 
acting in public, were ill calculated to attract royal 
favour. He 'Was, therefore, always respected, and often 
employed, buti^he was not a favourite of George the 
Second, his consort, or his ministers. At several different 
periods in his life, the Duke might be considered as in 
absolute disgrace at court, although he could hardly be 
said to be a declared member of opposition. This rendered 
him the dearer to Scotland, because it was usually in 
her cause that he incurred the displeasure of his sove- 
reign; and upon this very occasion of the Porteous jnob, 
the animated and eloquent opposition which he had 
offered to the severe measures which were about to be 
adopted towards the city of Edinburgh, was the more 
^^^ gratefully received in that metropolis, as it was under- 
stood that the Duke's interposition had given personal of* 
fence to Queen Caroline. 

His conduct upon this occasion, as indeed that of all tl^.^ 



7%e Heart of Mid- Lothian. 125 

Scotish members of the legislature, with one or two un* 
worthy exceptions, had been in the highest degi'ee spi- 
rited. The popular tradition, concerning his reply to 
Queen Caroline, has been given already, and some frag- 
ments of his speech against the Porteous Bill are still re- 
membered. He retorted upon the Chancellor, Lord 
Hardwicke, the insinuation that he had stated himself in 
this case rather as a party than as a judge: — " I appeal," 
said Argyle, *'to the house — to the nation, if I can be 
justly branded with the infamy of being a jobber, or a par- 
tizan. Have I been a briber of votes? — a buyer of bo- 
roughs? — the agent of corruption for any purpose, or on 
behalf of any party? — Consider my life; examine my ac- 
tions in the field and in the cabinet, and see where there 
lies a blot that can attach to my honour. I have shown 
myself the friend of my country— the loyal subject of my 
king. I am ready to do so again, without an instant's re- 
gard to the frowns or smiles of a court. I have experi- 
enced both, and am prepared with indifference for either. 
I have given my reasons for opposing this bill, and have 
made it appear that it is repugnant to the international 
' eaty of union, to the liberty of Scotland, and, reflec- 
ively to that of England, to common justice, to common 
sense, and to the public interest. Shall the metropolis o£ 
Scotland, the capital of an independent nation, the resi- 
dence of a long line of monarchs, by whom that noble city 
was graced and dignified — shall such a city, for the fault 
of an obscure and unknown body of rioters, be deprived 
of its honours and its privileges — its gates and its guards? 
— and shall a native Scotchman tamely behold the havock? 
I gloiy, my Lords, in opposing such unjust rigour, and 
reckon it my dearest* pride and honour to stand up in 
defence of my native country, while thus laid open to un- 
deserved shame, and unjust spoliation." 

Other statesmen and orators, both Scotish and English, 
used the same arguments, the bill was gradually stripped 
of its most oppressive and obnoxious clauses, and at length 
ended in a fine upon the city of Edinburgh in favour of Por- 
teous's widow. So that, as somebody observed at the 
h 2 



\2G 2 ales of Ahj Landlord. 

lime, the wliole of these fierce debates ended in making 
the fortune of an old cook-maid, such heiving been the 
good woman's original capacity. 

The court, however, did not forget tlie baffle they had 
received in this affair, and the Duke of Argyle, -who had 
contributed so much to it, w^as thereafter considered as a 
person in disgrace. It is necessary to place these circum- 
stances under the reader's observation, both because they 
are connected with the preceding and subsequent part of 
our narrative. 

The Duke w^as alone in his study, wdien one of his gen- 
tleman acquainted him, that a country girl, from Scotland, 
was desirous of speaking with his Grace. 

"A country girl, and from Scotland!" said the Duke; 
" what can have brought the silly fool to London ^^ — Some 
lover pressed and sent to sea, or some stock sunk in the 
South-Sea funds, or some such hopeful concern, I suppose, 
and then nobody to manage the matter but MacCailum- 
more. — Well, this same popularity has its inconvenienceso 
— However, show our country-woman up, Archibald — it 
is ill manners to keep her in attendance." 

A young woman of rather low stature, and whose coun- 
tenance might be termed very modest and pleasing in ex- 
pression, though sun-burnt, somewhat freckled, and not 
possessing regular features, w'as ushered into the splendid 
library. She wore the tartan plaid of her country, adjust- 
ed so as partly to cover her head, and partly to fall back 
over her shoulders. A quantity of fair hair, disposed with 
great simplicity and neatness, appeared in front of her 
round and good-humoured face, to which the solemnity 
of her errand, and her sense of the duke's rank and im- 
portance, gave an appearance of deep awe, but not of slav- 
ish fear, or fluttered bashfulness. The rest of Jtanie's 

. . . • 

dress was in the style of Scotish maidens of her own class; 

but arranged with that scrupulous attention to neatness 
and cleanliness, which we often find united with that pu- 
rity of mind, of which it is a natural emblem. 

She stopped near the entrance of the room, made her 
deepest reverence, and crossed her hands upon her bosom. 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. Ul 

without uttering a syllable. The Duke of Argyle advanc- 
ed towards her; and if she admired his graceful deport- 
ment and rich dress, decorated with the orders which had 
been deservedly bestowed upon him, his courteous manner, 
and quick and intelligent cast of countenance, he on his 
part was not less, or less deserveclly, struck with die 
quiet simplicity and modesty expressed in the dress, man- 
ners, and countenance of his humble countrywoman. 

"Did you wish to speak with me, my bonnie lass?" 
said the Duke, using the encouraging epithet which at once 
acknowledged the connection betwixt them as country- 
folks; "-or, did you wish to see the Dutchess?" 

" My business is with your honour, my Lord — I mean 
your Lordship"'s Gra^ce." 

" And what is it, my good girl?" said the Duke, in the 
same mild and encouraging tone of voice. Jeanie looked 
at the attendant. " Leave us, Archibald," said the Duke, 
"and wait in the anti-room." The domestic reiired. 
" And now sit down, my good lass," said the Duke; 
" take your breath — take your time, and tell me what you 
liave got to say. I guess by your dress, you are just come 
up from poor old Scotland — Did you come through the 
streets in your tartan plaid?" 

" No, sir," said Jeanie; " a friend brought me in ane 
o' their street coaches — a very decent woman," she added, 
her courage increasing as she became familiar with the 
sound of her own voice in such a presence; "your Lord- 
ship's Grace kens her — it's Mrs Glass, at the sign o' the 
Thistle." 

"0 my worthy snuff-merchant. I have always a chat with 
Mrs Glass when 1 purchase my Scots high-dried. — Well, 
but your business, my bonnie woman — time and tide, you 
know, wait for no one." 

" Your honour — I beg your Lordship's pardon — I mean 
your Grace," for it must be noticed, that this matter of ad- 
dressing the Duke by his appropriate title had been an- 
xiously inculcated upon Jeanie by her friend Mrs Glass, 
in whose eyes it was a matter of such importance, that her 
hst words, as Jeanie left the coach, were, " Mind to say 



128 Tales of My Landlord. 

your Grace;'' and Jeanie, who had scarce ever in her life 
spoke to a person of higher quality than the Laird of Dum- 
biedikes, found great difficulty in arranging her language 
according to the rules of ceremony. 

The Duke, who saW her embarrassment, said, with his 
usual affability, " Never mind my grace, lassie; just 
speak out a plain tale, and shew you have a Scots tongue 
in your head." 

'' Sir, I am muckle obliged — Sir, I am the sister of that 
poor unfortunate criminal, ElTie Deans, who is ordered for 
execution at Edinburgh." 

" Ah!" said the Duke, " I have heard of that unhappy 
story, I think — a case of child murder, under a special act 
of parliament — Duncan Forbes mentioned it at dinner the 
other day." 

" And I was come up frae the north, sir, to see what 
could be done for her in the way of getting a reprieve or 
pardon, sir, or the like of that." 

" Alas! my poor girl," said the Duke, " you have made 
a long and a sad journey to very little purpose — Your sis- 
ter is ordered for execution." 

" But I am given to understand that there is law for 
reprieving her, if it is in the king's pleasure," said 
Jeanie. 

"Certainly there is," said the Duke; "but that is 
purely in the king's breast. The crime has been but too com- 
mon — the Scots crown-lawyers think it is right there 
should be an example. Then the late disorders in Edin- 
burgh have excited a prejudice in government against the 
nation at large, which they think can only be managed by 
measures of intimidation and severity. What argument 
have you, my poor girl, except the warmth of your sisterly 
affection, to offer against all this? — What is your interest? 
What l>iends have you at court?" 

" None, excepting God and your Grace," said Jeanie, 
still keeping her ground resolutely, however. 

"Alas!" said the Duke, " I could almost say with old 
Ormond, that there could not be any, whose influence was 
smaller with kings and ministers. It is a cruel part of our 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. 129 

ijituation, young woman — I mean of the situation of men 
,in my circumstances, that the public ascribe to them influ- 
ence which they do not possess; and that individuals are 
led to expect from them assistance, which we have no 
means of rendering. But candour and plain-dealing is in 
the power of every one, and I must not let you imagine you 
have resources in my influence, which do not exist, to 
make your distress the heavier — I have no means of avert- 
ing your sister'^s fate — She must die." 

" We must a' die, sir," said Jeanie; "it is our com- 
mon doom for our father's transgression; but we shouldna 
hasten ilk other out o' the world, that's what your honour 
kens better than me," 

" My good young woman," said the Duke, mildly, "we 
are all apt to blame the law under which we immediately 
suffer; but you seem to have been well educated in your 
line of life, and you must know that it is alike the law of 
God and man, that the murderer shall surely die." 

" But, sir, Effie — that is my poor sister, sir — canna be 
proved to be a murderer; and if she be not, and the law 
take her life notwithstanding, wha is it that is the murderer 
then?" 

" I am no lawyer," said the Duke; " and I own I think 
the statute a very severe one." 

" You are a law-maker, sir, with your leave; and there- 
fore, ye have power over the law," answered Jeanie. 

" Not in my individual capacity," said the Duke; 
" though, as one of a large body, I have a voice in the legis- 
lation. But that cannot serve you — nor have I at present, 
I care not who knows it, so much personal influence with 
the sovereign, as would entitle me to ask from him the 
most insignificant favour. What could tempt you, young 
woman, to address yourself to me?" 

" It was yoursell, sir." 

" Myself!" he replied—" I am sure you have never seen 
me before." 

" No, sir; but a' the world kf ns that Ihe Duke of Ar- 
gyleisthe country's friend; and that ye fight for the right. 
nnd speak for the rigiit, and that there's nane like your's 



j 30 Tales of My Landlord. 

in our present Israel, and so they that think themselves 
wranged draw to refuge under your shadow; and if ye 
wanna stir to save the blood of an innocent country-wo- 
man of your ain, what should we expect frae southerns and 
strangers? And maybe I had another reason for troubling 
your honour." 

" And what is that?" asked the Duke. 

" I hae understood frae my father, that your honour's 
house, and especially your gudesire and his father, laid 
down their lives on the scaffold in the persecuting time. 
And my father was honoured to gie his testimony baith in 
the cage and in the pillory, as is specially mentioned in 
books of Peter Walker the packman, that your honour, I 
dare say, kens, for he uses maist partly the west-land of 
Scotland. And, sir, there's ane that takes concern in me, 
that wished me to gang to your Grace's presence, for his 
gudesire had done your gracious gudesire some good turn, 
as 3'e will see frae these papers." 

With these words, she delivered to the Duke the little 
parcel which she had received from Butler. He opened 
it, and, in the envelope, read with some surprise, " Mus- 
ter-roll of the men serving in the troop of that godly gen- 
tleman. Captain Salathiel Bangtext. — Obadiah Muggle- 
ton, Sin-Despise Double-knock, Stand-fast-in-faith Gipps, 
Turn-to-the-right Thwack-away — What the deuce is this? 
A list of Praise-God Barebones's Parliament I think, or 
of old Noll's evangelical army — that last fellow should 
understand his wheelings to judge by his name. — But what 
does all this mean, my girl?" 

" It was the other paper, sir," said Jeanie, somewhat 
abashed at the mistake. 

"O, this is my unfortunate grandfather's hand sure 
enough — '• To all who may have friendship for Ihe house 
of Argyle, these are to certify, that Benjamin Butler, of 
Monk's regiment of dragoons, having been, under God, 
the means of saving my life from four English troopers 
who were about to slay me, I, having no other present 
means of recompense in my power, do give him this ac- 
faiowledgment. hoping that it may be useful to him or his 



The Heart of Mid-Lolhian. 16 k 

during these troublesome times; and do conjure my 
friends, tenants, kinsmen, and whoever will do aught for 
me, either in the Highlands or Lowlands, to protect and 
assist the said Benjamin Butler, and his friends and family, 
on their lawful occasions, giving them such countenance, 
maintenance, and supply, as may correspond with the 
benefit he hath bestowed on me, witness my hand — 

' LORNE.' 

"This is a strong injunction — This Benjamin Butler 
was your grandfather, I suppose? — You seem too young to 
have been his daughter." 

" He was nae akin to me, sir — he was grandfather to 
ane — to a neighbour's son — to a sincere well-wisher of 
mine, sir," dropping her little curtsey as she spoke. 

" 0, I understand," said the Duke — " a true-love 
affair. He was the grandsire of one you are engaged to.^" 

" One I loas engaged to, sir," said Jeanie, sighing; 
'' but this unhappy business of my poor sister " 

'' What!" said the Duke, hastily — " he has not desert- 
ed you on that account, has he.^" 

" No, sir; he wad be the last to leave a friend in diffi- 
culties," said Jeanie; '' but I maun think for him, as weel 
as for mysell. He is a clergyman, sir, and it would not 
beseem him to marry the like of me, wi' this disgrace on 
my kindred." 

" You are a singular young woman," said the Dnke. 
" You seem to me to think of every one before yourself. 
And have you really come up from Edinburgh on foot, to 
attempt this hopeless solicitation for your sister's life?" 

" It was not a'thegether on foot, sir," answered Jeanie; 
" for I sometimes got a cast in a waggon, and I had a 
horse from Ferrybridge, and then the coach" 

" Well, never mind ail that," interrupted the Duke. — 
" What reason have you for thinking your sister innocent?" 

'' Because she has not been proved guilty, as will ap- 
pear from looking at these papers." 

She put into his hand a note of the evidence, and copies 
of her sister's declaration. These papers Butler had pro- 
cured afttr her departure, and Saddletree had them for- 



132 Tales ojMy Landlord. 

warded to London to Mrs Glass's care, so that Jeauie 
found the documents, so necessary for supporting her suit, 
lying in readiness at her arrival. 

"'Sit down in that chair, my good girl," said the Duke, 
" until I glance over the papers." 

She obeyed, and watched with the utmost anxiety each 
change in his countenance as he cast his eye through the 
papers briefly, yet with attention, and making memoranda 
as he went along. After reading them hastily over, he look- 
ed up, and seemed about to speak, yet changed his purpose, 
as if afraid of committing himself by giving too hasty an 
opinion, and read over again several passages which he 
had marked as being most important. All this he did in 
shorter time than can be supposed by men of ordinary 
talents; for his mind was of that acute and penetrating 
character which discovers with the glance of intuition 
what facts bear on the particular point that chances to be 
subjected to consideration. At length he rose after a few 
minutes deep reileclion. — " Young u'oman," said he, 
'-'- your sister's case must certainly be termed a hard one." 

" God bless you, sir, for that very word," said Jeanie. 

" It seems contrai-y to the genius of British law," con- 
tinued the Duke, " to take that for granted which is not 
proved, or to punish with death for a crime, which, for 
aught tbe prosecutor has been able to show, may not have 
been committed at all." 

" God bless you, sir," again said Jeanie, who had risen 
from her seat, and, with clasped hands, eyes glittering 
through tears, and features which trembled with anxiety, 
drank in every vvord which the Duke uttered. 

"But, alas! my poor girl," he continued, " v>^hai good 
will my opinion do you, unless I could impress it upon 
those in whose hands your sister's life is placed by the 
law? Besides, I am no lawyer; and I must speak with 
some of our Scotish gentlemen of the gown about the 
matter." 

" but, sir, what seems reasonable to your honour, 
will certainly be the same to them," answered Jeanie. 

" I do not know that," replied the Duke; '^ ilka man 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. 133 

buckles his belt his ain gate— you know our old Scots 
proverb?— But you shall not have placed this reliance on 
me altogether in vain. Leave these papers with me, and 
you shall hear from me to morrow or next day. Take 
care to be at home at Mrs Glass's, and ready to come to 
me at a moment's warning. It will be unnecessary for 
you to give Mrs Glass the trouble to attend you; — and, by 
the bye, you will please to be dressed just as you are at 
present." 

" I wad hae putten on a cap, sir," said Jeanie, " but 
your honour kens it isna the fashion of my country for 
single women; and I judged that being sae mony hun- 
dred miles frae hame, your Grace's heart wad warm to 
the tartan," looking at the corner of her plaid. 

" You judged quite right," said the Duke. " I know 
the full value of the snood; and MacCallummore's heart 
will be as cold as death can make it, when it does not 
warm to the tartan. Now, go away, and don't be out of 
the way when I send." 

Jeanie replied, " There is little fear of that, sir, for I 
have little heart to go to see sights amang this wilderness 
of black houses. But if I might say to your gracious 
honour, that if ye ever condescend to speak to ony ane that 
is of greater degree than yoursell, though maybe it is nae 
civil in me to say sae, just if you would think there can 
be nae sic odds between you and them, as between poor 
Jeanie Deans from Saint Leonard's and the Duke of Ar- 
gyle; and so dinna be chappit back or cast down wi' the 
first rough answer." 

" I am not apt," said the Duke, laughing, " to minc^ 
rough answers much — Do not you hope too much from 
what I have promised. I will do my best, but God has 
the hearts of Kings in his own hand." 

Jeanie curtsied reverently and withdrew, attended by 
the Duke's gentleman, to her hackney-coach, with a res- 
pect which her appearance did not demand, but which 
was perhaps paid to the length of interview with which 
his master had honoured her, 

VOL. II. M 



134 Tales of Mtj Landlord. 



CHAPTER Xr. 



ascead, 



While radiant summer opens all its pride, 

Thy hill, delightful Schene ! Here let us sweep 

The boundless landscape. 

Thomson. 



Prom her kind and officious, but somewhat gossipping 
friend Mrs Glass, Jeanie underwent a very close catechism 
on their road to the Strand, where the Thistle of the good 
lady flourished in full glory, and, with its legend of JVemo 
me impune^ distinguished a shop then well known to all 
Scotish folks of high and low degree. 

" And were you sure aye to say your Grace to him?" 
said the good old lady; " for ane should make a distinc- 
tion between MacCallummore and the bits o' southern 
bodies that they ca' lords here. There are as mony o' them, 
Jeanie, as would gar ane think they maun cost but little 
fash in the making. Some of them I wadna trust wi' six 
pennies worth of black rappee — some of them I wadna gie 
mysell the trouble to put up a hapnyworth in brown paper 
for. But I hope you showed your breeding to the Duke of 
Argyle, for what sort of folks would he think your friends 
in London, if you had been lording him, and him a Duke?" 

" He didna seem muckle to mind," said Jeanie; " he 
kenn'd that I was landward bred." 

" Weel, weel," answered the good lady, "His 
Grace kens me weel; so I am the less anxious about it. I 
never fill his snuff-box but he says, ' How d'ye do, good 
Mrs Glass? How are all your friends in the north?' or it 
jjiay be — 'Have ye heard from the North lately?' And 
you may be sure, I make my best curtsey, and answer, my 
Lord Duke, I hope your Grace's noble Dutchess, and your 
Grace's young ladies are well; and I hope the snuff con- 
tinues to give your Grace satisfaction. TEnd then ye will 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. 1 35 

seethe people in the shop begin to look about them; and 
if there's a Scotsman, as there may be three or half a 
dozen, affgo the hats, and mony a look after him, and there 
goes the Prince of Scotland, God bless him. But ye have 
liot told me yet the very words he said t'ye." 

Jeanie had no intention to be quite so communicative. 
She had, as the reader may have observed, some of the 
caution and shrewdness, as well as of the simplicity, of her 
country. She answered generally, that the Duke had re- 
ceived her very compassionately, and had promised to in- 
terest himself in her sister's affair, and to let her hear from 
him in the course of the next day or the day after. She did 
not chuse to make any mention of his having desired her to 
be in readiness to attend him, far less of his hint, that she 
should not bring her landlady. So that honest Mrs Glass 
was obliged to remain satisfied with the general intelligence 
above mentioned, after having done all she could to 
extract more. • 

It may easily be conceived, that, on the next day, 
Jeanie declined all invitations and inducements, w'hether 
of exercise 6r curiosity, to walk abroad, and continued 
to inhale the close, and somewhat professional atmosphere 
of Mrs Glass's small parlour. The latter flavour it owed 
to a certain cup-board, containing, among other articles, 
a few canisters of real Havannah, w4iich, whether from 
respect to the manufacture, or out of a reverend fear of 
the excisemen, Mrs Glass did not care to trust in the open 
shop below, and which communicated to the room a scent, 
that, however fragrant to the nostrils of the connoisseur, 
was not very agreeable to those of Jeanie. 

" Dear sirs," she said to herself, " I wonder how my 
cousin's silk manty, and her gowd watch, or ony thing in 
the world, can be worth sitting sneezing all her life in this 
little stifling room, and might walk on green braes if she 
liked." 

Mrs. Glass was equally surprilfed at her cousin's reluc- 
tance to stir abroad, and her indifference to the fine sights 
of London. " It would always help to pass away the 



1 36 Tales of My Landlord. 

time," she said, " to have something to look at, though 
ane was in distress." But Jeanie was unpersuadable. 

The day afler her interview with the Duke was spent 
in that " hope delayed, which maketh the heart sick." 
Minutes glided after minutes — hours fled after hours — it 
became too late to have any reasonable expectation of 
hearing from the Duke that day; yet the hope which she 
disowned, she could not altogether relinquish, and her 
heart throbbed, and her ears tingled, with every casual 
sound in the shop below. It was in vain. The day wore 
away in the anxiety of protracted and fruitless expecta- 
tion. 

The next morning commenced in the same manner. 
But before noon, a well-dressed gentleman entered Mrs 
Glass's shop, and requested to see a young woman from 
Scotland. 

" That will be my cousin, Jeanie Deans, Mr. Archi- 
bald," said Mrs Glass, with a curtsey of recognizance. 
" Have you any message for her from his Grace the Duke 
of Argyle, Mr. Archibald.? I will carry it to her in a 
moment." 

" I believe I must give her the trouble of stepping down.. 
Mrs. Glass." 

"Jeanie — ^Jeanie Deans!" said Mrs Glass, screaming 
at the bottom of the little stair-case, which ascended from 
the corner of the shop to the higher regions, " Jeanie — 
Jeanie Deans, } say, come down stairs instantly; here is 
the Duke of Argyle's groom of the chambers desires to see 
you directly." This was announced in a voice so loud, 
as to make all within chance of hearing, aware of the im- 
portant communication. 

It may easily be supposed, that Jeanie did not tarry 
long in adjusting herself to attend the summons, yet her 
feet almost failed her as she came down stairs. 

" I must ask the favour of your company a little way," 
said Archibald, with civility. 

" I am quite ready, sir," said Jeanie. 

*'Is my cousin going out, Mr. Archibald? then I will 
hae to go wi' her no doubt. — James Rasper— Look to tho 



The Heart ofMd-Lothian. 1 37 

shop, James. — Mr. Archibald," pushing a jar towards 
him, '' you take his Grace's mixture, I think. Please tQ 
fill your box, for old acquaintance sake, while I get on my 
things." 

Mr. Archibald transposed a modest parcel of snufFfrOm 
the jar to his own mull, but he said he was obliged to de- 
cline the pleasure of Mrs Glass's company, as his mes- 
sage was particularly to the young person. 

" Particularly to the young person?" said Mrs. Glass; 
" is not that uncommon, Mr. Archibald? But his Grace 
is the best judge; and you are a steady person, Mr. Archi- 
bald. It is not every one that comes from a great man's 
house, I would trust my cousin with. But, Jeanie, yon 
must not go through the streets with Mr. Archibald 
with your tartan what d'ye call it there, upon your 
shoulders, as you had come up with a drove of High- 
land cattle. Wait till I bring down my silk cloak. 
Why we'll have the mob after you !" 

" I have a hackney-coach in waiting, madam," said 
Mr. Archibald, interrupting the officious old lady, from 
whom Jeanie might otherwise have found it difficult to 
escape, " and, I believe, I must not allow her time for any 
change of dress." 

So saying, he hurried Jeanie into the coach, while she 
internally praised and wondered at the easy manner in 
which he shifted off Mrs Glass's officious offers and en- 
quiries,^ without mentioning his master's orders, or enter- 
ing into any explanation. 

On entering the coach, Mr. Archibald seated himself in 
the front seat, opposite to our heroine, and they drove on, 
in silence. After they had driven nearly half an hour, 
without a word on either side, it occurred to Jeanie, that 
the distance and time did not correspond with that which 
had been occupied by her journey on the former occasion 
to, and from, the residence of the Duke of Argyle. At 
length she could not help asking her taciturn companion, 
^' Whilk way they Avere going?" 

" My Lord Duke will inform you himself, madam," an- 
swered Archibald, with the same solemn courtesvj which 
3$I ^ 



138 Tales of My Landlord. 

marked his whole demeanour. Almost as he spoke, the 
hackney-coach drew up, and the coachman dismounted and 
opened the door. Archibald got out and assisted Jeanie 
to get down. She found herself in a large turnpike road, 
without the bounds of London, upon the other side of 
which road was drawn up a plain chariot and four horses, 
the pannels without arms, and the servants without liveries. 

" You have been punctual, I see, Jeanie," said the 
Duke of Argyle, as Archibald opened the carriage door. 

*•' You must be my companion for the rest of the way. 
Archibald will remain here with the hackney-coach till 
your return." 

Ere Jeanie could make answer, she found herself, to 
her no small astonishment, seated by the side of a duke^ 
in a carnage which rolled forward at a rapid yet smooth 
rate, very different in both particulars from the lumbering, 
jolting vehicle which she had just left; and which, lum- 
bering and jolting as it was, conveyed to one, who had 
never been in a coach before, a certain feeling of dignity 
and importance. 

" Young woman," said the Duke, " after thinking as 
attentively on your sister's case as is in my power, I con- 
tinue to be impressed with the belief that great injustice 
may be done by the execution of her sentence. So are one 
-©r two liberal and intelligent lawyers of both countries 
whom I have spoken with. — Nay, pray hear me out before 
you thank me. — I have already told you my personal con- 
viction is of little consequence, unless I could impress 
the same upon others. Now I have done for you, what I 
would certainly not have done to serve any purpose of my 
own — I have asked an audience of a lady whose interest 
with the king is deservedly very high. It has been allow- 
ed me, and I am desirous that you should see her and 
speak for yourself. You have no occasion to be abashed; 
tell your story simply as you did to me." 

" I am much obliged to your Grace," said Jeanie, re- 
membering Mrs Glass's charge, " and I am sure since I have 
had the courage to speak to your Grace in poor Effie's 
cause, I have less reason to be shame-faced in speaking to 



The Heart of Md-Lothian. tSS 

aleddy. But, sir, I would like token what to ca' her, 
whether your grace, or your honour, or your leddyship, as 
we say to lairds and leddies in Scotland, and I will take 
care to mind it; for I ken leddies are full mair particular 
than gentlemen about their titles of honour." 

" You have no occasion to call her any thing but Ma- 
dam. Jusi say what you think is likely to make the best 
impression-look at me from time to time; if I put my hand 
to my cravat so — (shewing her the motion) — you will 
stop; but I shall only do this when you say any thing that 
is not likely to please."' 

" But, sir, your Grace," said Jeanie, " if it wasna ower 
muckle trouble, wad it na be better to tell me what I 
should say, and I could get it by heart?" 

" No, Jeanie, that would not have the same effect — ■ 
that would be like reading a sermon, you know, which w^e 
good presbyterians think has less unction than when spo- 
ken without book," replied the Duke. " Just speak as 
plainly and boldly to this lady, as you did to me the day 
before yesterday; and if you can gain her consent, I'll 
wad ye a plack, as we say in the north, that you get the 
pardon from the king." 

As he spoke, he took a pamphlet from his pocket, and 
began to read. Jeanie had good sense and tact, which 
constitute betwixt them that which is called natural 
good breeding. She interpreted the Duke's manoeuvre as 
a hint that she was to ask no more questions, and she re- 
mained silent accordingly. 

The carriage rolled rapidly onwards through fertile 
meadows, ornamented with splendid old oaks, and catch- 
ing occasionally a glance of the majestic mirror of a 
broad and placid river. After passing through a pleasant 
village, the equipage stopped on a commanding eminence, 
where the beauty of Enghsh landscape was displayed in 
its utmost luxuriance. Here the Duke alighted, and 
desired Jeanie to follow him. They paused for a moment 
on the brow of a hill, to gaze on the unrivalled landscape 
which it presented, A huge sea of verdure, with crossing 



140 Tales of My Landlord. 

and intersecting promontories of massive and tufted groves, 
was tenanted by numberless flocks and herds, which seem- 
ed to wander unrestrained and unbounded through the rich 
pastures. The Thames, here turretted with villas, and 
there garlanded with forests, moved on slowly and pla- 
cidly, like the mighty monarch of the scene, to whom all 
its other beauties were but accessories, and bore on his 
bosom an hundred barks and skiffs, whose white sails and 
gaily fluttering penons gave life to the whole. 

The Duke of Argyle was, of course, familiar with this 
scene; but to a man of genius it must be always new. 
Yet, as he paused and looked on this inimitable land- 
scape, with the feeling of delight which it must give to 
the bosom of every admirer of nature, his thoughts na- 
turally reverted to his own more grand, yet scarce less 
beautiful, domains of Inverary. — " This is a fine scene,'' 
he said to his companion, curious, perhaps, to draw out 
her sentiments; " we have nothing like it in Scotland." 

" It's braw rich feeding for the cows, and they have a 
ifine breed o' cattle here," replied Jeanie; " but I like just 
as weel to look at the craigs of Arthur's Seat, and the sea 
coming in ayont them, as at a' thae muckle trees." 

The Duke smiled at a reply equally professional and 
national, and made a signal for the carriage to remain 
where it was. Then adopting an unfrequented footpath^ 
he conducted Jeanie, through several complicated mazes, 
to a postern-door in a high brick wall. It was shut; but 
as the Duke tapped slightly at it, a person in waiting with- 
in, after reconnoitring through a small iron-grate contriv- 
ed for the purpose, unlocked the door, and admitted them. 
They entered, and it was immediately closed and fastened 
behind them. This was all done quickly, the door so in- 
stantly closing, and the person who had opened it so sud- 
denly disappearing, that Jeanie could not even catch a 
glance of his exterior. 

They found themselves at the extremity of a deep and 
narrow alley, carpetted with the most verdant and close 
shaven turf, which felt like velvet under their feet, and 



The Heart of Mid-LothiaJh, 141 

screened from the sun bj the branches of the lofty elms 
which united over the path, and caused it to resemble, in 
the solemn obscurity of the light which they admitted, as 
well as from the range of columnar stems and intricate 
union of their arched branches, one of the narrow side 
aisles in an ancient Gothic cathedral. 



142 Tales of My Landlord. 



CHAPTER Xil. 

' 1 beseech you — 

These tears beseech you, and these chaste hands woo you, 
That never yet were heaved but to things holy — 
Things Hke yourself — You are a God above us ; 
Be as a God, then, full of saving mercy ! 

The Bloodij Brother. 

Encouraged as she was by the courteous manners of 
her noble countryman, it was not without a feeling of 
something like terror that Jeanie felt herself in a place 
apparently so lonely, with a man of such high rank. 
That she should have been permitted to wait on the Duke 
in his own house, and have been there received to a 
private interview, was of itself an uncommon and dis- 
tinguished event in the annals of a life so simple as hers; 
but to find herself his travelling companion in a jour- 
ney, and then suddenly to be left alone with him in so 
secluded a situation, had something in it of awful mystery. 
A romantic heroine might have suspected and dreaded the 
power of her own charms; but Jeanie was too wise to 
let such a silly thought intrude on her mind. Still how- 
ever she had a most eager desire to know where she now 
was, and to whom she was to be presented. 

She remarked that the Duke's dress, though still such 
as indicated rank and fashion, (for it was not the cus- 
tom of men of quality at that time to dress themselves 
like their own coachmen or grooms,) was nevertheless 
plainer than that in wliich she had seen him upon a 
former occasion, and was divested, in particular, of all 
those badges of external decoration which intimated supe- 
rior consequence. In short, he was attired as any gentle- 
man of fashion could appear in the streets of London in 
a morning; and this circumstance helped to shake an 
opinion which Jeanie began to entertain, that, perhaps, 
he intended she should plead her cause in the presence 
of royalty itself '^ But, surely," said she to herself '' be 



fi 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. 143 

wad hae putten on his braw star and garter, an' he had 
thought o' coming before the face of Majesty — and after 
a' this is niair like a gentleman's policy than a royal 
palace." 

There was some sense in Jeanie's reasoning; yet she 
was not sufficiently mistress either of the circun»stances 
of etiquette, or the particular relations which existed be- 
twixt the government and the Duke of Argyle, to form 
an accurate judgment. The Duke, as we have said, 
was at this time in open opposition to the administration 
of Sir Robert Walpole, and was understood to be out of 
favour with the royal family, to whom he had rendered 
such important services. But it was a maxim of Queen 
Caroline, to bear herself towards her political friends 
with such caution, as if there was a possibility of their 
one day being her enemies, and towards political op^ 
ponents with the same degree of circumspeclion, as if 
they might again become friendly to her measures. Since 
Margaret of Anjou, no queen-consort had exercised such 
■^veight in the political affairs of England, and the personal 
address which she displayed on many occasions, had 
no small share in reclaiming from their political heresy 
many of those determined tories, who, after the reign of 
the Stuarts, had been extinguished in the person of Queen 
Anne, were disposed rather to transfer their allegiance to 
her brother the Chevalier de St George, than to acquiesce 
in the settlement of the crown on the Hanover family. Her 
husband, whose most shining quality was courage in the 
field of battle, and who endured the office of King of 
England without ever being able to acquire English habits, 
or any familiarity with English dispositions, found the 
utmost assistance from the address of his partner; and 
while he jealously aifected to do every thing according 
to his own will and pleasure, was in secret prudent 
enough to take and follow the advice of his more adroit 
consort. He entrusted to her the delicate office de- 
termining the various degrees of favour necessary to at- 
tach the wavering, or to conform those who were already 
friendly, or to regain those whose good-will had been lost. 



144 Tales of My Landlord. 

With all the winning address of an elegant, and, ac- 
cording to the times, an accomplished woman, Queen Ca- 
roline possessed the masculine soul of the other sex. She 
was proud' by nature, and even her policy could not always 
temper her expressions of displeasure, although few were 
more ready at repairing any false step of this kind, when 
her prudence came up to the aid of her passions. She 
loved the real possession of power, rather than the shew 
of it, and whatever she did herself that was either wise 
or popular, she always desired that the king should have 
the full credit as well as the advantage of the measure, con- 
scious that by adding to his respectability she was most 
likely to maintain her own. And so desirous was she to 
comply with all his tastes, that, when threatened with the 
gout, she had repeatedly had recourse to checking the fit, 
by the use of the cold bath, thereby endangering her life 
that she might be able to attend the king in his walks. 

It was a very consistent part of Queen Caroline's cha- 
racter, to keep up many private correspondences with 
those to whom in public she seemed unfavourable, or w ho, 
for various reasons, stood ill with the court. By this 
means she kept in her hands the thread of many a politi- 
cal intrigue, and, without pledging herself to any thing, 
could often prevent discontent from becoming hatred, and 
opposition from exaggerating itself into rebellion. , If by 
any accident her correspondence with such persons chanc- 
ed to be observed or discovered, which she took all possi- 
ble pains to prevent, it was represented as a mere inter- 
course of society, having no reference to politics; an an- 
swer with which even the prime minister, Sir Robert Wal- 
pole, was compelled to remain satisfied, when he discov- 
ered that the Queen had given a private audience to Pul- 
teney, afterwards Earl of Bath, his most formidable and 
most inveterate enemy. 

In thus maintaining occasional intercourse with several 
persons who seemed most alienated from the crown, it may 
readily be supposed, that Queen Caroline had taken care 
not to break entirely with the Duke of Argyle. Hi§ high 



TM Heaft of Mid- Lothian. 145 

birth, his great talents, the estimation in which he was 
held in his own country, the great services which he had 
rendered the house of Brunswick, in 1715, placed him 
high in that rank of persons who were not to be rashly ne- 
glected. He had, almost b} his single and unassisted ta- 
lents, stopped the irruption of the banded force of all the 
Highland chiefs; there was little doubt, that, with the 
slightest encouragement, lie could put them all in motion 
and renew the civil war; and it was well known that the 
most flattering overtures had been transmitted to the Duke 
from the court of St Germains. The character and tem- 
per of Scotland was still little known, and it was consi- 
dered as a volcano, which might, indeed, slumber for a se- 
ries of years, but was still liable, at a moment the least 
unexpected, to break out into a wasteful eruption. It was 
therefore, of the highest importance to retain some hold 
over so important a personage as the Duke of Argyle, and 
Caroline preserved the means of doing so by means of 
ofa lady, with whom, as wife of George II., she might 
have been supposed to be on less intimate terms. 

It was not the least instance of the Queen's address, 
that she had contrived that one of her principal attendants, 
Lady Suffolk, should unite in her own person the two ap- 
parently inconsistent characters of her husband's mistress, 
and her own very obsequious and complaisant confidante. 
By this dexterous management the Queen secured her pow- 
er against the danger which might most have threatened it 
— the thwarting influence of an ambitious rival; and if she 
submitted to the mortification of being obliged to connive 
at her husband's infidelity, she was at least guarded against 
what she might think its most dangerous effects, and was 
besides at liberty, now and then, to bestow a (ew civil in- 
sults upon "her good Howard," whom, however, in gene- 
ral, she treated with great decorum. Lady Suffolk lay 
under strong obligations to the Duke, of Argyle, for reasons 
which may be collected from Horace Walpole's Reminis-* 
cences of that reign, and through her means the Duke had 
some occasional correspondence with Queen Cai'oline, 
much interrupted^ however, since the part he had taken in 

VOL. II. N 



146 Tales of My Landlord. 

the debate concerning the Porteous mob, an affair which 
the Queen was disposed to resent, rather as an intended and 
premeditated insolence to her own person and authority,than 
as a sudden ebullition of popular vengeance. Still, however, 
the communication remained open betwixt them, though it 
. had been of late disused on both sides. These remarks 
will be found necessary to understand the scene which is 
about to be presented to the reader. 

From the narrow alley which they had traversed, the 
Duke turned into one of the same character, but broader 
and still longer. Here, for the first time since they had en- 
tered these gardens, Jeanie saw persons approaching 
them. 

They were two ladies; one of whom walked a little 
behind the other, yet not so much as to prevent her from 
hearing and replying to whatever observation was address- 
ed to her. As they advanced very slowly, Jeanie had 
time to study their features and appearance. The Duke 
also slackened his pace, as if to give her time to collect 
herself, and repeatedly desired her not to be afraid. The 
lady who seemed the principal person had remarkably 
good features, though somewhat injured by the small-pox, 
that venomous scourge which each village ^Esculapius 
(thanks to Jenner) can now tame as easily as their tute- 
lary deity subdued the Python. The lady's eyes were 
brilliant, her teeth good, and her countenance formed to 
express at will either majesty or courtesy. Her form, though 
rather en-bon-pointy was nevertheless graceful; and the 
elasticity and firmness of her step gave no room to suspect 
what was actually the case, that she suffered occasionally 
from a disorder the most unfavourable to pedestrian exer- 
cise. Her dress was rather rich than gay, and lier manner 
commanding and noble. 

Her companion was of lower stature, with light brown 

hair and expressive blue eyes. Her features, without being 

•absolutely regular, were perhaps more pleasing than if 

they had been critically handsome. A melancholy, or at 

ieafet a pensive expression, for which her lot gave too much 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. 1 47 

cause, predominated when she was silent, but gave way to 
a pleasing and good-humoured smile when she spoke to 
anyone. 

When they were within twelve or fifteen yards of these 
ladies, the Duke made a sign that Jeanie should stand 
still, and stepping forward himself, with the grace which 
was natural to him, made a profound obeisance, which w^as 
formally, yet in a dignified manner, returned by the per- 
sonage whom he approached. 

" I hope," she said, with an aff*able and condescending 
smile, " that I see so great a stranger at court, as the 
Duke of Argyle has been of late, in as good health as his 
friends there and elsewhere could wish him to enjoy." 

The Duke replied, " That he had been perfectly well;" 
and added, " that the necessity of attending to the public 
business before the House, as well as the time occupied 
by a late journey to Scotland, had rendered him less assi- 
duous in paying his duty at the levee and drawing-room 
than he could have desired." 

" When your Grace can find time for a duty so frivo- 
lous," replied the Queen, " you are aware of your title to 
be well received. I hope my readiness to comply with 
the wish which you expressed yesterday to Lady Suffolk, 
is a sufficient proof that one of the royal family, at least, 
has not forgotten ancient and important services, in re- 
senting something which resembles recent neglect." This 
was said apparently with great good-humour, and in a tone 
which expressed a desire of conciliation. 

The Duke replied, " That he would account himself 
the most unfortunate of men, if he could be supposed 
capable of neglecting his duty, in modes and circum- 
stances when it was expected, and would have been agree- 
able. He was deeply gratified by the honour which her 
Majesty was now doing to him personally; and he trusted 
she would perceive, that it was in a matter essential to his 
Majesty's interest that he had the boldness to give her this 
trouble." 

" You cannot oblige me more, my Lord Duke," re- 
plied the Queen, "than by giving me the advantage of 
your lights and experience on any point of the King's ser- 



148 Tales of My Landlord. 

• 
vice. Your Grace is aware, that I can only be the 
medium through which the matter is subjected to his 
Majesty's superior wisdom; but if it is a suit which re- 
spects your Grace personally, it shall lose no support by 
being preferred through me." 

"It is no suit of mine, Madam," replied the Duke; 
'^ nor have I any to prefer for myself personally, although 
I feel in full force my obligation to your Majesty. It is a 
business which concerns his Majesty, as a lover of justice 
and of mercy, and which I am convinced may be highly 
useful in conciliating the unfortunate irritation which at 
present subsists among bis Majesty's good subjects in Scot- 
land." • 

There were two parts of this speech disagreeable to 
Caroline. In the first place, it removed the flattering no- 
tion she had adopted, that Argyle designed to use her per- 
sonal intercession in making his peace with the adminis- 
tration, and recovering the employments of which he had 
been deprived; and then she was displeased that he should 
talk of the discontents in Scotland as irritations to be con- 
ciliated, rather than suppressed. 

Under the influence of these feelings, she answered 
hastily, " That his Majesty has good subjects in England, 
my Lord Duke, he is bound to thank God and the laws — > 
that he has subjects in Scotland, I think he may thank 
God and his sword." 

The Duke, though a courtier, coloured slightly, and 
the Queen, instantly sensible of her error, added, without 
displaying the least change of countenance, and as if the 
words had been an original branch of the sentence — 
'•' And the swords of those real Scotchmen who are friends 
to the House of Brunswick, particularly that of his Grace 
of Argyle." 

" My sword, madam," replied the Duke, " like that of 
my fathers, has been always at the command of my law- 
ful king, and of my native country — I trust it is impossi- 
ble to separate their real rights and interests. But the 
present is a matter of more private concern, and respects 
the person of an obscure individual." 

" What is the aff*airj my Lord?" said the Queen. Let 



. The Heart oj Mid -Lothian. 149 

us find out what we are talking about, lest we should mis- 
construe and misunderstand each other." 

" The matter, madam," answered the Duke of Argyle, 
" regards the fate of an unfortunate young woman in Scot- 
land, now lying under the sentence of death, for a crime 
of which 1 think it highly probable that she is innocent. 
And my humble petition to your Majesty is, to obtain your 
powerful intercession with the King for a pardon." 

It was now the Queen's turn to colour, and she did so 
over cheek and brow — neck and bosom. She paused a 
moment, as if unwilling to trust her voice with the first 
expression of her displeasure; and on assuming an air of 
dignity and an austere regard of control, she at length 
replied, " My Lord Duke, I will not ask your motives for 
addressing to me a request, which circumstances have 
rendered such an extraordinary one. Your road to the 
king's closet, as a peer and a privy-counsellor entitled to 
request an audience, was open, without giving me the 
pain of this discussion. /, at least, have had enough of 
Scotch pardons." 

The Duke was prepared for this burst of indignation, 
and he was not shaken by it. He did not attempt a re- 
ply while the Queen was in the first heat of displeasure^ 
but remained in the same firm, yet respectful posture, 
which he had assumed during the interview. The Queen, 
trained from her situation to self-command, instantly per- 
ceived the advantage she might give against herself by 
yielding to passion; and added, in the same condescend- 
ing and affable tone in which she had opened the inter- 
view, " You must allow me some of the privileges of the 
sex, my Lord; and do not judge uncharitably of me, 
though I am a little moved at the recollection of xhe 
gross insult and outrage done in your capital city to the 
royal authority, at the very time when it was vested in my 
unworthy person. Your Grace cannot be surprised that I 
should both have felt it at the time, and recollected it now." 

" It is certainly a matter not speedily to be forgotten," 
answered the Duke. " My own poor thoughts of it have 
been long before your Majestv, and I must have expressed 
i^2 . . 



150 Tales of My Landlm'd. 

myself very ill if I did not convey my detestation of the 
murder which was committed under such extraordinary 
circumstances. I might, indeed, be so unfortunate as to 
differ with his Majesty's advisers on the degree in which 
it was either just or politic to punish the innocent instead 
of the guilty. But I trust your Majesty will permit me 
to be silent on a topic in which my sentiments have not 
the good fortune to coincide with those of more able men." 

" We will not prosecute a topic on which we may pro- 
bably differ," said the Queen. " One word, however, I 
may say in private — You know our good Lady Suffolk 
is a little deaf — the Duke of Argyle, when disposed ta 
renew his acquaintance with his master and mistress, will 
hardly find many topics on which we should disagree." 

" Let me hope," said the Duke, bowing profoundly to 
so flattering an intimation, "that I shall not be so unfortu- 
nate as to have found one on the present occasion." 

" I must first impose on your Grace the duty of confes- 
sion," said the Queen, " before I grant you absolution. 
What is your particular interest in this young woman? 
She does not seem (and she scanned Jeanie as she said 
this with the eye of a connoisseur) much qualified to alarm 
my friend the Duchess's jealousy." 

" I think your Majesty," replied the Duke, smiling in 
his turn, '' will allow my taste may be a pledge for me on 
that score." 

" Then, though she has not much the air dhine grande 
dame, I suppose she is some thirtieth cousin in the terrible 
chapter of Scotish genealogy," 

"No, madam," said the Duke; "but I wish some of 
my nearer relations had half her worth, honesty, and af- 
fection." 

" Her name must be Campbell at least?" said Queen 
Caroline. 

"No, madam; her name is not quite so distinguished, 
if I may be permitted to say so," answered the Duke. 

"Ah! but she comes from Inverara or Argyleshire?^' 
said the Sovereign. 



The Heart of Mid' Lothian. ' 151 

/«She has never been farther north in her life tliaii 
Edinburgh, madam." 

" Then my conjectures are all ended," said the Queen, 
" and your grace must yourself take the trouble to explaiu 
the affair of your protegee." 

With that precision and easy brevity which is only ac- 
quired by habitually conversing in the higher ranks of so- 
ciety, and which is the diametrical opposite of that pro- 
tracted style of disquisition, 

** Which squires call potter, and which men call prose," 

the Duke explained the singular law under which Effie 
Deans had received sentence of death, and detailed the 
affectionate exertions which Jeanie had made in behalf of 
a sister, for whose sake she was willing to sacrifice all but 
truth and conscience. 

Queen Caroline listened with attention; she was rather 
fond, it must be rem'embered, of an ajrgument, and soon 
found matter in what the Duke told her for raising difficul- 
ties to his request. 

^' It appears to me, my Lord," she replied, " that this 
is a severe law. But still it is adopted upon good grounds, 
1 am bound to suppose, as the law of the country, and the 
girl has been convicted under it. The very presumptions 
which the law construes into a positive proof of guilt exist 
in her case; and all that your grace has said concerning 
the possibility of her innocence maybe a very good argu- 
ment for annulling the Act of Parliament, but cannot, 
while it stands good, be admitted in favour of any indivi- 
dual convicted upon the statute." 

The Duke saw and avoided the snare, for he was con- 
scious, that, by replying to the argument, he must have 
been inevitably led to a discussion, in the course of which 
the Queen was likely to be hardened in her own opinion, 
until she became obliged, out of mere respect to consisten- 
cy, to let the criminal suffer. " If your Majesty," he said, 
" would condescend to hear my poor countrywoman her- 
self, perhaps she may find an advocate in your own heart, 



1 52 Tales of My Landlord. 

more able than I am to combat the doubts suggested by 
your understanding." 

The Queen seemed to acquiesce, and the Duke made 
a signal for Jeanie to advance from the spot where she 
had hitherto remained watching countenances, which were 
too long accustomed to suppress all apparent signs of emo- 
tion, to convey to her any interesting intelligence. Her 
Majestycould not help smiling at the awe-struck manner 
in which the quiet demure figure of the little Scotchwo- 
man advanced towards her, and yet more at the first sound 
of her broad northern accent. But Jeanie had a voice low 
and sweetly toned, an admirable thing in woman, and eke 
besought " her Leddyship to have pity on a poor misguid- 
ed young creature," in tones so affecting, that, like the 
notes of some of her native songs, provincial vulgarity was 
lost in pathos. 

" Stand up, young woman," said the Queen, but in a 
kind tone, "and tell me whatsortof a barbarous people your 
countryfolks are, where child-murther is become so com- 
mon as to require the restraint of laws like your's?" 

" If your Leddyship pleases," answered Jeanie, " there 
are mony places besides Scotland where mothers are un- 
kind to their ain flesh and blood." 

It must be observed, that the disputes between George 
the Second, and Frederick, Prince of Wales, were then at 
the highest, and that the good-natured part of the public 
laid the blame on the Queen. She coloured highly, and 
darted a glance of a most penetrating character first at 
Jeanie, and then at the Duke. Both sustained it unmov- 
ed; Jeanie from total unconsciousness of the offence she 
had given, and the Duke from his habitual composure. 
But in his heart he thought. My unlucky protegee has, 
with this luckless answer, shot dead, by a kind of chance- 
medley, her only hope of success. 

Lady Suffolk, good-humouredly and skilfully, interposed 
i» this awkward crisis. " You should tell this lady," she 
said io Jeanie, " the particular causes which render this 
crime common in your c luntry." 

" Some thinks it's the Kirk-Session — that is — it's the 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. 153 

—it's the cutty-stool, if your Leddyship pleases," said 
Jeanie, looking down, and curtsying. 

" The what?" said Lady Suffolk, to whom the phrase 
was new, and who besides was rather deaf. 

" That's the stool of repentance, madam, if it please 
your Leddyship," answered Jeanie, " for light life and 
conversation, aiid for breaking the seventh command." 
Here she raised her eyes to the Duke, saw his hand at his 
chin, and, totally unconscious of what she had said out of 
joint, gave double effect to the innuendo, by stopping short 
and looking embarrassed. ' 

As for Lady Suffolk, she retired like a covering party, 
which, having interposed betwixt their retreating friends 
and the enemy, have suddenly drawn on themselves a fire 
unexpectedly severe. 

The deuce take the lass, thought the Duke of Arg)ie to 
himself; there goes another shot— and she has killed with 
both barrels right and left. 

Indeed the Duke had himself his share of the confusion, 
for, having acted as master of ceremonies to this innocent 
offender, he felt much in the circumstances of a country- 
squire, who, having introduced his spaniel into a well-ap- 
pointed drawing room, is doomed to witness the disorder and 
damage which arises to china and to dress-gowns, in con- 
sequence of its untimely frolics. Jeanie's last chance-hit, 
however, obliterated the ill impression which had arisen 
from the first; for her Majesty had not so lost the feelings 
of a wife in those of a Queen, but what she could enjoy a 
jest at the expence of "her good Suffolk." She turned 
towards the Duke of Argyle with a smile, which marked 
that she enjoyed the triumph, and observed, " the Scotch 
are a rigidly moral people." Then again applying her- 
self to Jeanie, she asked, how she travelled up from Scot- 
land. 

" Upon my foot mostly, madam," was the reply. 

" What, all that immense way upon foot? — How far 
cah you walk in a day?" 

" Five and twenty miles and a bittock." 

" And a what?" said the Queen, looking towards the 
Duke of Argyle„ 



154 Tales of My Landlord ^ 

" And about five miles more," replied the JDuke, 

" I thought I was a good walker," said the Queen, 
" but this shames me sadly." 

" May your Leddyship never hae sae weary a heart, 
that ye canna be sensible of the weariness of the limbs," 
said Jeanie. 

That came better off, thought the Duke; it's the first 
thing she has said to the purpose. 

" And Ididnajust a' thegether ;ivalk the haill way nei- 
ther, for J had whiles the cast of a cart; and I had the 
cast of a horse from Ferrybridge, and divers other ease- 
iwents," said Jeanie, cutting short her story, for she ob- 
served the Duke made the sign he had fixed upon. 

'' With all these accommodations," answered the 
Queen, '' you must have had a very fatiguing journey, and, 
I fear, to liitle purpose; since, if the King were to pardon 
yovtr sister, in all probability it would do her little good, 
for I suppose your people of Edinburgh would hang her out 
of spite." 

She will sink herself now outright, thought the. Duke. 

But he was wrong. The shoals on which Jeanie had 
touched in this delicate conversation lay under ground, 
and were unknown to her; this rock was above water, and 
she avoided it. 

" She was confident," she said, " that baiih town and 
country wad rejoice to see his Majesty taking compassion 
on a poor unfriended creature." 

" His Majesty hath not found it so in a late instance," 
said the Queen; " but I suppose my Lord Duke would 
advise him to be guided by the votes of the rabble them- 
selves, who should be hanged and who spared?" 

"No, madam," said the Duke; "but I would ad- 
vise his Majesty to be guided by his own feelings and those 
of his royal consort; and then, I am sure, punishment will 
only attach itself to guilt, and even then with cautious re- 
luctance." 

^' Well, my Lord," said her Majesty, " all these fine 
speeches do not convince me of the propriety of so soon 
showing any mark of favour to your — I suppose I must not 
«ay rebellious?— but, at least, your very disaffected and in- 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian, 155 

tractible metropolis. Why, the whole nation is in a league 
to screen the savage and abominable murtherers of that 
unhappy man; otherwise, how is it possible but that, of 
so many perpretrators, and engaged in so public an action 
for such a length of time, one at least must have been re- 
cognized? Even this wench, for aught I can tell, may be 
a depositary of the secret. Heark you, young woman; 
had jou any friends engaged in the Porteous mob ?" 

" No, Madam," answered Jeanie, happy that the ques- 
tion was so framed that she could, w^ith a good conscience, 
answer it in the negative. 

" But I suppose," continued the Queen, " if you were 
possessed of such a sejcret, you would hold it matter of 
conscience to keep it to yourself?" 

" I would pray to be directed and guided what was the 
line of my duty," answered Jeanie. 

" Yes, and take that which suited your own inclina- 
tions," replied her Majesty. 

" If it like you, madam," said Jeanie, " I would hae 
gaen to the end of the earth to save the life of John Por- 
teous, or any other unhappy man in his condition; but I 
might lawfully doubt how far I am called upon to be the 
avenger of his blood, though it may become the civil 
•magistrate to do so. He is dead and gane to his place, 
and they that have slain him must answer for their ain act. 
But my sister — my puir sister Effie still lives, though her 
days and hours are numbered ! — She still lives, and a word 
of the King's mouth might restore her to a broken-heart- 
ed auld man, that never, in his daily and nightly exercise, 
forgot to pray that his Majesty might be blessed with a 
long and a prosperous reign, and that his throne, and 
the throne of his posterity, might be established in righte- 
ousness. 0, madam, if ever ye kenn'd what it was. to 
sorrow for and with a sinning and a suffering creature, 
whose mind is sae tossed that she can be neither ca'd fit to 
live or die, have some compassion on our misery! — Save 
an honest house from dishonour, and an unhappy girl, not 
eighteen years of age, from an early and dreadful death! 
Alas! it is not when we sleep soft and wake merrily our- 



156 Tales of My Landlord. 

selves that we think on other people's sufferings. Our 
hearts are waxed fight within us then, and we are for 
righting our ain wrangs and fighting our ain battles. But 
when the hour at trouble comes to the mind or to the 
body — and^ seldom may it visit your Ltddyship — and 
when the hour of death comes, that com?s to high and 
low — ^lang and late may it be yours — 0, my Leddy, then 
it isna what we hae dune for oursells, but what we hae 
dune for others, that we think on maist pleasantly. And 
the thoughts that ye hae intervened to spare the puir 
thing's life will be sweeter in that hour, come when it 
may, than if a word of your mouth could hang the haill 
Porteous mob at the tail of ae tow.". 

Tear followed tear down Jeanie's cheeks, as, her fea- 
tures glowing and quivering with emotion, she pleaded 
her sister's cause with a pathos which was at once simple 
and solemn. 

" This is eloquence," said her Majesty to the Duke of 
Argyle. " Young woman," she continued, addressing 
herself to Jeanie, " /cannot grant a pardon to your sister 
— but you shall not want my warm intercession with his 
Majesty. Take this housewife-case," she continued, put- 
ting a small embroidered needle-case into Jeanie's hands; 
" do not open it now, but at your leisure you will find 
something in it whif^h will remind you that you have had 
an interview with Queen Caroline." 

Jeanie, having her suspicions thus confirmed, dropped 
on her knees, and would have expanded herself in grati- 
tude; but the Dake, who was upon thorns lest she should say 
more or less than just enough, touched his chin once more. 

" Our business is, I think, ended for the present, my 
Lord Duke," said the Queen, " and, I trust, to your satis- 
faction. Hereafter I hope to see your Grace more fre- 
quently, both at Richmond and St James's. — Come, 
Lad^ Suffolk, we must wish his Grace good morning." 

They exchanged their parting reverences, and the Duke, 
so soon ds the lu^K^ts had turned their backs, assisted 
Jeanie <u rise from the ground, and conducted her back 
througi^ ihi avenue, which she trod with the feeling of 
one who walks in her sleep. 



THE 



HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 



VOLUME IV. 



CHAPTER I. 

So soon as I can win the ofFended King 
I will be known your advocate. 

Cymbeline. 

THE diilce of Argyle led the way in silence to the 
small postern by which they had been admitted into 
Richmond Pai'k, so long the favouiite residence of 
queen Caroline. II was opened by the same half- seen 
janitor, and they found themselves beyond the precincts 
of tlie royal demesne. Still not a word was spoken on 
either side. The duke probably wished to allow his 
rustic protegee time to recruit her faculties, dazzled 
and sunk with colloquy sublime; and betwixt what 
she had guessed, had heard, and had seen, Jeanie 
Deans's mind was too much agitated to permit her to 
ask any questions. 

They found the carriage of the duke in the place 
where tliey had left it; and when they resumed their 
places, soon began to advance rapidly on their return 
to town. 

"I think, Jeanie," said the duke, breaking silence, 
** you have every reason to congratulate yourself on the 
issue of your interview with her majesty." 

VOL. IV. 2 



4 Tales of Mij Landlord, 

'< And that Icddy was the queen hersell ?" said 
Jeanie; " I misdouhtcd it when I saw that your honour 
didna put on your hat — and yet I can hardly believe it, 
even when I heard her speak it liersell." 

" It was certainly queen Caroline," replied the 
duke. " Have you no curiosity to see what is in the 
little pocket-book ?" 

^'Do you think the pardon will he in it, sirr" said 
Jeanie, with eager animation of hope. 

a Why, no," replied the duke, " that is unlikely. 
They seldom carry these things about them, unless 
they were liliely to be wanted^ and besides, her ma- 
jesty told you it was the king, not she, who was to 
grant it." 

"That is true too," said Jeanie; "but I am so 
confused in my mind — but does your honour think 
there is a certainty of Effie's piii'don then?" continued 
she, still holding in her hand the unopened pocket- 
hook. 

" Why, kings are kittle cattle to shoe behind, as we 
say in the north," replied the duke ; " but his wife knows 
his trim, and I have not the least doubt that the matter 
is quite certain." 

"O God he praised! God be praised!" ejaculated 
Jeanie; "and may the gude leddy never want the 
heart's ease she has gi'en me at tliis moment — and God 
bless you too, my lord ! without your help I wad ne'er 
hae won near her." 

The duke let her dwell upon this subject f?.^ a con- 
siderable time, curious, perhaps, to see how long the 
feelings of gratitude would continue to supersede those 
of curiosity. But so feeble was the latter feeling in 
Jeanie's mind, tliat his grace, with whom, perhaps, it 
was for the time a little stronger, was obliged once 
more to bring forward the subject of the queen's pre- 
sent. It was opened accordingly. In the inside of the 
case were the usual assortment of silk and needles, with 
scissors, tweazers, &c. ; and in the pocket was a bank- 
bill for fifty pounds. 

The duke had no sooner informed Jeanie of the value 



i 



The Heart oj Mid-Lothian, 5 

of this last document, for she was imaccustoined to see 
notes for such sums, than she expressed her j'Cgret at 
the mistake wliich had taken place. " For the hussy 
itsell," she said, <* was a very valuable thing for a 
keepsake, with the queen's name written in the inside 
witii her ain hand doubtless — Caroline — as plain as 
could be, and a crown drawn aboon it." 

Slie therefore tendered the hill to tlie duke, request- 
i»ig liiai to find some mode of returning it to the royal 
owner. 

" No, no, Jeanie," said the duke, <•' there is no 
mistake in the case. Her majesty knows you have 
been put to gieat expense, and she wishes to make it 
up to you." 

** I am sure she is even over gude," said Jeanie, 
** and it glads me muckle that I can pay back Duni- 
biedikes his siller, without distressing my father, ho- 
nest man." 

^« Dumbiedikes? What, a freeholder of Mid-Lothian, 
is he notr" said his grace, whose occasional residence 
in that county made him acfjuainted with most of the 
heritors, as landed persons are termed in Scotland — 
** He has a house not far from Dalkeith, wears a black 
wig and a laced hat?" 

" Yes, sir," answered Jeanie, who had her reasons 
for being brief in her answers upon this topic. 

"Ah! my old friend Dumbie!" said the duke; "I 
have thrice seen him fou, and only once heard the sound 
of his voice — Is he a cousin of yours, Jeanie :" 

"No, sir, my lord." 

** Then he must be a well-wisher, I suspect?" 

" Ye — yes, — my lord, sir," answered Jeanie, blush- 
ing, and with hesitation. 

** Aha! then if the laird stai'ts, I suppose my friend 
Butler must be in some danger?" 

•* O no, sir," answered Jeanie much more readily, 
but at the same time blushing much more deeply. 

" AVell, Jeanie," said the 'duke, " you are a girl 
may be safely trusted with your own mattei-s, and I 
shall enquire no further about them. But as to this 



6 Tales of My Landlord* 

same pardon, I must see to get it passed throiigli tlie 
proper forms ; and I have a friend in office who will, 
for auld lang syne, do me so much favour. And then, 
Jeanie, as 1 shall have occasion to send an express 
down to Scotland, who will travel with it safer and 
more swiftly than you can do, I will take care to have 
it put into the proper ciiannel; meanwhile you may 
write to your friends hy post of your good success." 

*^ And does your honour think," said Jeanie, ** that 
will do as weel as I were to take my tap in my lap, and 
slip my ways hame again on my ain errand?" 

** Aluch better, certainly," said the duke. '^ You 
know the roads are not very safe for a single woman 
to travel." 

Jeanie internally acquiesced in this observation. 

" And I have a plan for you besides. One of the 
duchess's attendants, and one of mine — -your acquaint- 
ance Archibald — are going down to Inverara in a light 
calash, \\ ith four horses I have bought, and there is 
room enough in the carriage for you to go with them 
as far as Glasgow, where Archibald will find means of 
sending you safely to Edinburgh — and in the way, I 
beg you will teach the woman as much as you can of 
the mystery of cheese-making, for she is to have a 
charge in the dairy, and I dare swear you are as tidy- 
about your milk -pail as about your dress." 

" Does your lionour like clieesei" said Jeanie, with a 
gleam of conscious delight as she asked the question. 

*^ Like it r" said the duke, whose good-nature antici- 
pated what was to follow, — *' cakes and cheese are a 
tiinner for an emperor, let alone a Highlandman." 

•' Because," said Jeanie, with modest confidence, 
aiul great and evident self-congratulation, " we have 
been thought so particular in making cheese, that some 
folk think it as good as the real Duidop; and if your 
honoui's grace wad but accept a stane or twa, blythe, 
and fain, and proud it wad make us. But maybe ye 
may like the ewe-milk or the Buckholmside cheese 
better; or maybe the gait-milk, as ye come frae the 
Highlands — and I canna pretend just to the same 



Tlie Heart of Mid-Lothian, 7 

skecl o' tliem ; but my cousin Jcmi, tliat lives at 
Lockermaclms in Lanimennuir, I could speak to her, 
and " 

<* Quite unnecessary," said the duke; " the Dunlop 
is the very cheese of which I :un so fond, and I will 
take it as the greatest favour you can do nic to send 
one to Caroline-Park. But remember, be on honour 
with it, Jeanie, and make it- all yourself, for I am a 
real good judge." 

" I am not feared," said Jeanie confidently, " that I 
may please your honour: for I am sure you look as if 
you could hardly find fault wi* ony body that did their 
best; ajid weel is it my part, I trow, to do mine." 

This discourse inti-oduced a topic upon v»iiich the 
two travellers, though so different in rank and educa- 
tion, found each a good deal to say. The duke, be- 
sides his other patriotic qualities, was a (lis;ti])guished 
agriculturist, and proud of his know ledge in tliat de- 
partment. He entertained Jeanie witii his observations 
on the different breeds of cattle in Scotland, and their 
capacity for the dairy, and received so much informa- 
tion from her practical experience in return, that he 
promised her a couple of Devonshire cows in reward 
of the lesson. In short, his mind was so transported 
back to his rural employments and amusements, that 
he sigiied when liis cai'iiage stopped opposite to the 
old hackney-coach, which ilrciiibald had kept in at- 
tendance at the place where they had left it. While 
the coachman again bridled his lean cattle, which had 
been indulged iRith a bite of musty hay, the duke 
cautioned Jeani$ not to be too communicative to her 
landlady concerning what had passed. *» There is," 
he said, " no use of speaking of matters till tlicy are 
actually settled; and you may refer the good lady to 
Archibald, if she presses you hard with questions. 
She is his old acquaintance, and he knows how to 
manage with hci*." 

He then took a cordial farewell of Jeanie, and 
told her to be ready in the ensuing week to return to 
Scotland — saw her saiely ostabiished in her hackney- 
2* 



8 Tales of My Landlord* 

coarli, and rolled off in bis own carriage, humming 
a stanza of the ballad which he is said to have com- 
posed : — 

** At the sig-lit of Dumbarton once again, 
I'll cock up my bonnet and march amain. 
With my claymore hanging down to my heel. 
To whang at the bannocks of barley meal." 

Perhaps one ought to be actually a Scotchman to 
conceive how ardently, under all distinctions of rank 
and situation, they feel their mutual coimexion with 
eacb other as natives of the same country. There are, 
I believe, more associations common to the inhabitants 
of a I'ude and wild, than of a well cultivated and feitile 
country; their ancestors have more seldom changed 
their place of residence; their mutual recollection of 
remarkable objects is more accui'atc ; the high and 
the low are more interested in each other's welfare; 
tlje feelings of kindred and relationship are more 
^^ idely extended, and, in a word, the bonds of patriotic 
affection, always honourable even wlien a little too 
exclusively strained, have more influence on men's 
feelings and actions. 

The rumbling hackney-coach which tumbled over 
the (then) execrable London pavement, at a rate very 
different from that which had conveyed the ducal car- 
riage to Rix;hmond, at length deposited Jeanie Deans 
and her attendant at the national sign of the Thistle. 
Mrs. Glass, who had been in long and anxious expec- 
tation, now rushed full of eager curiSsity and open- 
nioutlied interrogation, upon our hef*oine, who was 
positively unable to sustain the overwhelming cataract 
of her questions which burst forth with the sublimity 
of a grand gardyloo : — " Had she seen the duke, God 
bless him— 4he duchess — the young ladies? — Had she 
seen the king, God bless him — the queen — the prince 
of Wales — the princess — or any of the rest of the 
royal family ? — Had she got her sister's pardon ? — 
Was it out and out — or was it only a commutation of 
punishment? — How far had she gone — ^where had she 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 9 

driven to — wiioni bad she seen — what had been said — 
what had kept licr so long:" 

Sucli were the various questions huddled upon each 
other by a curiosity so eagei-, that it could hardly 
wait for its own gratification. Jeanie would have 
been more than sufficiently embarrassed by this over- 
bearing tide of interrogations, had not Archibald, who 
had probably recei^ ed from his master a hint to that 
purpose, advanced to her rescue, <* Mrs. Glass," said 
Archibald, " his Grace desired me particularly to say, 
that he would take it as a great favour if you would 
ask the young woman no questions, as lie wishes to 
explain to you more distinctly than she can do how 
her affiiirs stand, and consult you on some matters 
which she cannot altogether so well explain. The 
duke will call at the Thistle to-morrow or next day 
for tliat purpose." 

**His Grace is very condescending," said Mrs. 
(>lass, her zeal for enquiiy slaked for the present by 
the dexterous administration of this sugar-plumb — 
** his Grace is sensible that I am in a manner account- 
able for the conduct of my young kinswoman, and no 
doubt his Grace is the best judge how far he should 
entrust her or me with the management of her af- 
fairs." 

" His Grace is quite sensible of that," answered 
Archibald with national gravity, " and will certainly 
trust what he has to say to the most discreet of the 
two; and therefore Mrs. Glass, his Grace relies you 
will speak nothing to Mrs. Jean Deans, either of her 
own affairs or her sister's, until he sees you himself. 
He desired me to assure you, in the meanwhile, that 
all was going on as well as your kindness could wish, 
Mrs. Glass." 

" His Grace is very kind — ^very considerate, cer- 
tainly, Mr. Archibald — his Grace's commands shall 

be obeyed, and But you have had a far drive, 

Mr. Archibald, as I guess by the time of your ab- 
sence, and 1 guess" (with an engaging smile) " you 
winua be the waur of a glass of the right Rosa Solis." 



IQ Tales of Mij Landlord. 

'' I thank you, Mrs. Glass," said the great man's 
great man, "but I am under the necessity of return- 
ing to my Lord directly." And making liis adieus 
civilly to both cousins, he left the shop of the Lady of 
the Thistle. 

•«I am glad your affairs have prospered so well, 
Jeanie, my love," said Mrs. Glass ; ** though indeed 
there was little fear of them so soon as the duke of 
Argyle was so condescending as to take them into 
hand. I will ask you no questions about them, be- 
cause his Grace, who is most considerate and prudent 
in such matters, intends to tell me all that you ken 
yourself, dear, and doubtless a great deal more ; so 
that any thing that may lie heavily on your mind may 
be imparted to me in the meantime, as you see it is 
his Grace's pleasure that I should be made acquaint- 
ed with the whole matter forthwith, and whether you 
or he tells it, will make no differeiice in the world, ye 
ken. If 1 ken what he is going to say beforehand, I 
will be much more ready to give my advice, and whe- 
ther you or he tell me about it, cannot much signify 
after all, my dear. So you may just say whatever 
you like, only mind I ask you no ({uestions about it." 

Jeanie was a little embarrassed. She thought that 
the communication she had to make was perliaps the 
only means she might have in her power to gratify her 
friendly and hospitable kinswoman. But her prudence 
instantly suggested that her secret interview with 
queen Caroline, which seemed to pass under a certain 
sort of mystery, was not a propei' subject for the gos- 
sip of a woman like Mrs. Glass, of whose heart she 
had a much better opinion than of her prudence. She, 
therefore, answered in general, that tiie duke had had 
the extraordinary kindness to make very particular 
enquiries into her sistei's bad affair, and that he 
thought he had found the means of putting it a* straight 
again, but that he proposed to tell all that he thought 
about the matter to Mrs. Glass herself. 

This did not quite satisfy the penetrating Mistress 
of the Thistle. Searching as her own small rappee, 



m 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 1 1 

she, in spite of her promise, urged Jeanie \dth still 
fui'ther questions. ** Had she been a' that time at Ar- 
gyle-house ? Was the duke with her the whole time ? 
and had she seen the duchess ? and had she seen the 
young ladies — and especially lady Caroline Campbell?" 
I'o tlipse questions Jeanie gave tlie general reply, that 
she knew so little of the town that she could not tell 
exactly where she had been ; that she had not seen the 
duchess, to her knowledge ; that she had seen two 
ladies, one of wliom slie understood bore the name of 
Caroline; and more, she said, she could not tell about 
tlie matter. 

" It would be the duke's eldest daughter, lady Ca- 
roline Campbell — ^thei*e is no doubt of that," said Mrs. 
Glass ; " but, doubtless, I shall know more particu- 
larly through his Grace. — And so, as the cloth is laid 
in the little parlour above stairs, and it is past three 
o'clock, for I have been waiting this hour for you, and 
I have had a snack myself, and, as they used to say 
in Scotland in my time — I do not ken if the word be 
used now — ^there is ill talking between a full body and 
a fasting." 



1^ Tales of My Landlord, 



CHAPTER II. 



Heaven first sent letters to some wretch's aid- 
Some banished lover, or some captive maid. 

Pope. 

By dint of im wonted labour with the pen, Jeanie 
Deans contrived to indite, and give to the charge of 
the postman on tlie ensuing day, no less than three 
lettei's, an exertion altogether strange to her habits ; 
insomuch so, that, if milk had been plenty, she would 
rather have made thrice as many Dunlop cheeses. 
The first of them was very brief. It was addressed to 
Greorge Staunton, Esq. at the Rectory, Wiliingham, 
by Gi'antham ; the address being part of the informa- 
tion which she had extracted from the communicative 
peasant who rode before her to Stamford. It was in 
these words : — 

*< Sir, 
« To prevent farder mischieves, whei»eof there hath 
been enough, comes these: Sir, I have my sistei's 
pardon from the queen's majesty, whereof, I do not 
doubt, you will be glad, having had to say naut of 
matters whereof you know the purport. So, sir, I 
pray for your better welfare in bodie and soul, and 
that it mil please the fisycian to visit you in His good 
time. Alwaies, sir, I pray you will never come again 
to see my sister, whereof there has been too much. 
And so, wishing you no evil, but even your best good, 
that you may be turned from your iniquity, (for wliy 
suld ye die?) I rest your humble servant to command, 
Ve ken wha" 

The next letter was to her father. It is too long al- 
together for insertion, so we only give a few extracts. 
It commenced — 



Tlie Heart of Mid-Lothian. 13 

^» Dearest and truly honoured Father, 
<< This comes with my duty to inform you, that it 
has pleased God to redeem that captivitie of my poor 
sister, in respect the queen's blessed majesty, for whom 
we are ever boimd to pray, hath redeemed her soul 
from the slayer, granting the ransom of her, whilk is 
ane pardon or reprieve. And I spoke with the queen 
face to face, and yet live ; for she is not muckle dif- 
fering from other grand leddies, saving that she hath 
a stately presence, and een like a blue huntin' hawk's, 
whilk gaed throu' and throu' me like a Hieland durk — 
And ail this good was, al^^ ay under the Great Giver, 
to whom all are but instruments, wrought forth for 
us by the duk of iVr-gile, vvha is ane native true-hearted 
Scotsman, and not pridefu', like other folks we ken 
of — and likewise skeeiy enow in bestial, whereof he 
has promised to gi'e me twa Devonshire kye, of which 
he is enamoured, altliough I do still baud by the real 
hawkit Aii'shire breed—and I have promised him a 
cheese; and I wad wuss ye, if Gowans, the brocket 
cow, has a quey, that she suld suck her fill of milk, 
as I am given to understand he has none of that 
breed, and is not scornfu', but will take a thing frae 
a puir body, that it may lighten their heart of the 
loading of debt that they awe him. Also his honour 
tlie duke will accept ane of our Dunlop cheeses, and 
it sail be my faut if a better was ever yearned in Low- 
den." — [Here follow some observations respecting the 
breed of cattle, and the produce of the dairy, which it 
is our intention to forward to the board of agricul- 
ture.] — <• Nevertheless, these are but matters of the 
after-harvest in respect of the great good which pro- 
vidence liath gifted us witli — and, in especial, poor 
Effie's life. And O, my dear father, since it hath 
pleased God to be merciful to her, let her not want 
your free pardon, whilk will make her meet to be ane 
vessel of grace, and also a comfort to your ain graie 
hairs. Dear father, will ye let the laird ken that we 
have had friends strangely raised up to us, and t'lat 
the talent whilk he lent me will be thankfully repaid. 



14 Tales of My Landlord. 

I hae some of it to the fore; and the rest of it is not 
knotted up in ane purse or napkin, but in ane wee bit 
paper, as is the fashion heir, whilk I am assured is 
gude for the siller. And, dear father, through Mr. 
JButler's means I had gude friendship with the duke, 
for there had been kindness between their forbears in 
the auld troublesome time bye-past. And Mrs. Glass 
has been kind like my very mother. She has a braw 
house here, and lives bien and warm, wi' twa servant 
lasses, and a man and a callant in the shop. And she 
is to send you doun a pound of her hie-dried, and some 
other tobaka, and we maun tliink of some propine for 
her, since her kindness hath been great. And tlie duk 
is to send the pardon doun by an express messenger, 
in respect that I cannot travel sae fast ; and I am to 
come doun wi' twa of his honour's servants — that is, 
John Archibald, a decent elderly gentleman, that says 
he has seen you lang syne when ye were buying beasts 
in the west frae the laird of Aughtermuggitie — but 
maybe ye winna mind him — ony way, he's a civil 
rnan — and Mrs. Dolly Button, that is to be dairy- 
maid at Inverara; and they bring me on as far as 
Glasgo', whilk will make it nae pinch to win hame, 
whilk I desire of all things. May the Giver of all 
good things keep ye in your outgauns and incomings, 
whereof devoutly prayeth your loving dauter, 

"Jean Deans." 

The third letter was to Butler, and its tenor as 
follows : 

" Master Butler. 
<* Sir — It will be pleasure to you to ken that all I 
came for is, thanks be to God, weel dune and to the 
gude end, and that your forbear's letter was right 
welcome to the duke of Argile, and that he wrote 
your name down with a kylevine pen in a leathern 
book, whereby it seems like he will do for you either 
wi* a scule or a kirk ; he has enow of baith, as I am 
assured. And I have seen the queen, which gave me 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. 15 

a hussy case out of licr own hand. She had not her 
crown and skeptre, but tliey arc laid by for her, like 
the bairns' best claisc, to be worn when she needs 
them. And they are keepit in a tour, wliilk is not like 
the tour of Libberton, nor yet Craigmillar, but mair 
like to the castell of Edinbuigh, if the buildings were 
taen and set down in tlie midst of the Nor'-Loch. 
Also the queen was very bounteous, gi^ ing me a paper 
worth fiftie pounds, as I am assured, to pay my ex- 
pences here and back agen — Sae, Master Butler, as 
we were aye neebours' bairns, forbye ony thing else 
that may hae been spoken between us, I trust you 
winna skrimp yoursell for what is needfu' for your 
health, since it signifies not muckle whilk o' us has 
the siller, if the other wants it. And mind this is no 
meant to baud ye to ony thing wliilk ye wad rather 
forget, if ye suld get a charge of a kii-k or a scule, as 
above said. Only 1 hope it will be a scule, and not 
a kirk, because of these difficulties anent aiths and 
patronages, whilk might gang ill doun wi' my honest 
father. Only if ye could conipas a harmonious call 
frae the parish of Skrecgh-me-dead, as ye anes had 
hope of, I trow it wad please him well ; since I hae 
heard him say, that the root of the matter was mair 
deeply hafted in that wild muirland parish than in the 
canogate of Edinbui'gh. I wish I had whaten books 
ye wanted, Mr. Butler, for they hae haill houses of 
them here, and they are obliged to set sum out in the 
street, Whilk are sauld cheap, doubtless, to get them 
out of the weather. It is a muckle place, and I hae 
seen sae nmckle of it, that my poor head turns round 
— And ye ken lang syne I am nae great pen-woman — 
and it is near eleven o'clock o' the niglit. I am cum- 
raing down in good company, and safe — and I had 
troubles in gaun up, whilk makes me blyther of tra- 
velling wi' kend folk. My cousin, Mrs. Glass, has a 
braw house here, but a' thing is sae poisoned wi' snuff, 
that I am like to be scomiished whiles. But what sig- 
nifies these things, in comparison of the great deli- 
verance whilk has been vouchsafed to my father's 
vol. IV. 3 



16 Tales of My Landlord, 

house, in wliilk, you, as our auld and dear well-wisher, 
will, I dout not, rejoice and be exceedingly glad. And 
I am, dear Mr. Butler, your sincere well-wisher in 
tempoial and eternal things, 

" J* D." 

After these labours of an unwonted kind, Jeanie re- 
tired to her bed, yet scarce could sleep a few minutes 
together, so often was she awakened by the heart- 
stirring consciousness of her sister's safety, and so 
powerfully urged to deposit her burthen of joy, whei^ 
she had before laid her doubts and sorrows, in the warm 
and sincere exercises of devotion. 

All the next, and all the succeeding day, Mrs. 
Glass fidgetted about her shop in the agony of expec- 
tation, like a pea (to use a vulgar simile which her 
profession renders appropriate,) upon one of her own 
tobacco-pipes. With the third morning came the 
expected coach, with four servants clustered behind 
on the foot-board, in daik-brown and yellow liveries; 
the dnke in person, with laced coat, gold-headed 
cane, star and garter, all, as the story-book says, 
very grand. 

He enquired for his little countrywoman of Mrs. 
Glass, but without requesting to see her, probably be- 
cause he was unwilling to give an a])pearance of per- 
sonal intercourse betwixt them, which scandal might 
have misinterpreted. ** The queen," he said to Mrs. 
Glass, " had taken the case of her kinswoman into her 
gracious consideration, and being specially moved by 
the affectionate and resolute character of ther elder sis- 
ter, had condescended to use her powerful intercession 
with his majesty, in consequence of which a pardon 
had been despatched to Scotland to Effie Deans, on 
condition of her banishing herself forth of Scotland for 
fourteen years. The king's advocate had insisted,'* 
he said, " upon this qualification of the pardon, having 
pointed out to his majesty's ministers that within the 
course of only seven years, twenty-one instances of 
child murther had occurred in Scotland." 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 1 7 

*< Weary on him !" said Mrs. Glass, " what for 
needed lie to have telled that of his aiii country, and 
to the English folk abane a' ? I used aye to think the 
advocate a douce decent man, hut it is an ill bird — 
begging your grace's pardon for speaking of such a 
coorse bye-word. And then what is the poor lassie to 
do in a foreign land? — Why, waes nic, its just sending 
her to play the same pranks ower again, out of sight 
or guidance of her friends." 

"Pooh! pooh!" said the duke, **that need not be 
anticipated. Why, she may come up to London, oi* 
she may go over to America, and marry well for all 
that is come and gone." 

" In troth, and so she may, as your grace is pleased 
to intimate," replied Mrs. Glass; <<and now I think 
upon it, there is my old correspondent in Virginia, 
Ephraim Buckskin, that has supplied the Thistle this 
forty years with tobacco, and it is not a little that 
serves our turn, and he has been writing to me this 
ten years to send him out a wife. The carle is not 
above sixty, and hale and hearty, and well to pass in 
the world, and a line from my hand would settle the 
matter, and Effie Deans's misfortune (forbye that there 
is no special occasion to speak about it) would be 
thought little of there." 

« Is she a pretty girl ?" said the duke, " her sister 
does not get beyond a good comely sonsy lass." 

" Oh, far prettier is Effie than Jeanie," said Mrs. 
Glass; " though it is long since I saw her mysell, but 
I hear of the Deanses by all my Lowden friends when 
they come — your grace kens v/e Scots are clannish 
bodies." 

" So much the better for us," said the duke, *< and 
the worse for those who meddle with us, as your good 
old-fashioned Scots sign says, Mrs. Glass. And now I 
hope you will approve of the measures I have taken 
for restoring your kinswoman to her friends." These 
he detailed at length, and Mrs. Glass gave her un- 
qualified appi'obfition, with a smile and a curtsey at 
every sentence. " And now, Mrs. Glass, you must 



18 Tales of My Landlord, 

tell Jeanie, I liope she will not forget my cheese when 
she gets down to Scotland. Archibald has my ordeis 
to arrange all her expences." 

<< Begging your grace's humble pardon," said Mrs. 
Glass, •» it's a pitty to trouble yourself about them ; the 
Deanses are wealthy people in their way, and the lass 
has money in her pocket." 

•* That's all very true," said the duke ; " hut you 
know where MacCallummore travels he j)ays all; it is 
our highland privilege to take from all what we want, 
and to give to all what they want." 

** Your grace is better at giving than taking," said 
Mrs. Glass. 

« To shew you the contrary," said the duke, " I 
will fill my box out of this canister without paying 
you a bawbee;" and again desiring to be remembered 
to Jeanie, with his good wishes for her safe journey, 
he departed, leaving Mrs. Glass uplifted in heart and 
in countenance, the proudest and happiest of tobacco 
and snuif dealers. 

Reflectively, his grace's good humour and aifahility 
had a favourable effect upon Jeanie*s situation. Her 
kinswoman, though civil and kind to her, had acquired 
too much of London breeding to he perfectly satisfied 
with her cousin's rustic and national dress, and was, 
besides, something scandalized at the cause of her 
journey to London. Mrs. Glass might, therefore, 
have been less sedulous in her attentions towards 
Jeanie, but for the interest which the foremost of the 
Scottish nobles (for such, in all men's estimation, was 
the duke of Argyle) seemed to take in her fate. Now, 
however, as a kinswoman whose virtues and domestic 
affections had attracted the notice and approbation of 
royalty itself, Jeanie stood to her relative in a light 
very different and much more favourable, and was not 
only treated with kindness, but with actual observance 
and respect. 

It depended upon herself alone to have made as 
many visits, and seen as many sights, as lay within 
Mi-s. Glass's power to compass. But excepting that 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 19 

slie dined abroad with one or two ** far-away kins- 
folk," and that she paid the same respect, on Mrs. 
Glass's strong urgency, to Mrs. Deputy Dabby, wife 
of the worshipful Mr. Deputy Dabb} , of Farringdon 
Without, slie did not avail herself of the opportunity. 
As Mrs. Dabby was the second lady of great rank 
whom Jeanie had seen in London, she used sometimes 
afterwards to draw a parallel betwixt her and the 
queen, in which slie observed, that " Mrs. Dabby was 
dressed twice as grand, and was twice as big, and 
spoke twice as loud, and twice as muckle as the queen 
did, but she hadna the same goss-hawk glance that 
makes the skin creep, and the knee bend; and though 
she had very kindly gifted her with a loaf of sugar 
and twa punds of tea, yet she hadna a'thegether the 
sweet look that the queen had when she put the needle- 
book ijito her hand." 

Jeanie might have enjoyed the sights and novelties 
of this great city more, had it not been for the qualifi- 
cation added to her sister's pardon, which greatly 
grieved her affectionate disposition. On this subject, 
however, her mind w^s somewliat relieved by a letter 
which she received in return of post, in answer to that 
which slie had written to her father. With his affec- 
tionate blessing, it brought his full approbation of the 
vstep which she had taken, as one inspired by the im- 
mediate dictates of Heaven, and wliich she had been 
thrust upon in order tiiat she might become the means 
of safety to a perishing household. 

" If ever a deliverance was dear and precious, this,** 
said the letter, " is a dear and precious deliverance 
— and if life saved can be made more sweet and 
savoury, it is when it cometh by the hands of those 
whom we hold in the ties of affection. And do not 
let your heart be disquieted within you, that this 
victim, who is rescued from the horns of the altar, 
whereuntil she was fast bound by the chains of human 
law, is now to be driven beyond tiie bounds of our 
land. Scotland is a blessed land to those who love the 
ordinances of Christianity, and it is a faer land to look 
3^ 



20 Tales of Mij Landlonl, 

upon, and dear to them who have dwelt in it a' their 
days; and weel said that judicious Christian, worthy 
Jolm Livingstone, a sailor in Borrowstounness, as the 
famous Patrick Walker reportcth his words, that how- 
beit he tlioug-ht Scotland was a Gehennah of wicked- 
ness when he was at home, yet, when he was abroad, 
he accounted it ane paradise; for the evils of Scotland 
he found every whei*e, and the good of Scotland he 
found no where. But we are to liold in remembrance 
that Scotland, though it be our native land, and the 
land of our fatliers, is not like Goshen, in Egypt, on 
whilk the sun of the heavens and of the gospel shineth 
allenarly, and leaveth the rest of the world in utter 
darkness. Therefore, and also because tiiis increase 
of ])i'ofit at Saint Leonard's Crags, may be a cauld 
waff' of wind blawing from the frozen land of earthly 
self, where never plant of grace took root or grew, and 
because my concerns make me take something ower 
mucklc a grip of the gear of the warld in mine arms, 
I receive this dispensation anent Eftie as a call to 
depart out of Haran, as righteous Abraham of old, and 
leave my father's kindred and my mother's house, and 
the ashes and mould of them who have gone to sleep 
before me, and which wait to be mingled with these 
aiild crazed bones of mine own. And my heart is 
lightened to do this, wlien I call to mind the decay of 
active and earnest religion in this land, and survey 
the height and the depth, the length and the breadth 
of national defections, and how tlie love of many is 
waxing lukewarm and cold; and I am strengthened 
in this resolution to change my domicile, likewise, as 
I hear that stoie-farms are to be set at an easy mail 
in Northumberland, where there are many precious 
souls that are of our true, though suffering persua- 
sion. And sic part of the kye or stock as I judge it 
fit to keep, may be driven thither without incommo- 
dity — say about AVooler, or that gate — keeping aye a 
ishouther to the hills, and the rest may be sauld to 
gude profit and advantage, if we had grace weel to 
use and guide these gifts of the warld. The Laird 



The Heart of Jlid-Lothia ji, 21 

lias been a true friend on our unhaj)py occasions, and 
I liaYe paid liiin back tlie siller for Effie's misfortune, 
wliei'cof Mr. Nichel Novit returned him no balance, 
as the Laird and I did expect he wad hae done. But 
law licks up a% as the common folks say. — I have had 
the siller to borrow out of sax purses. Mr. Sad- 
dletree advised to give the Laird of Lonsbeck a 
charge on his band for a thousand merks. But I hae 
nae bi'oo' of charges, since that awfu' morning that a 
tout of a horn, at the cross of Edinburgh, blew half 
the faithfu' ministers of Scotland out of their pulpits. 
However I sail raise an adjudication, whilk Mr. Sad- 
dletree says comes instead of the auld apprisings, and 
will not lose weel-won gear with the like of him if it 
may be helped. As for the queen, and the credit that 
site hath done to a poor man's daugliter, and the mercy 
and the grace ye formd with her, I can only pray for 
her weel-being here and hereafter, for the establish- 
ment of her house now and for ever, upon the throne 
of these kingdoms. I doubt not but what you told 
her majesty, that I was the same Da^id Deans of 
whom there was a sport at the Revolution when I 
noitcd thegither the heads of twa false prophets, 
these ungracious gi*aces the prelates, as they stood on 
the Hie-street, after being expelled from the Conven- 
tion-parliament. The duke of Argyle is a noble and 
true-hearted nobleman, who pleads the cause of the 
poor, and those who have none to help them ; verily 
his reward shall not be lacking unto him. I have 
been writing of many things, but not of tliat whilk 
lies nearest mine heart. I have seen the misguided 
thing ; she will be at freedom the morn, on enacted 
caution that she shall leave Scotland in four weeks. 
Her mind is in an evil frame, — casting her eye back- 
ward on Egypt, I doubt, as if the bitter waters of the 
wilderness were harder to endure than the brick fur- 
naces, by the side of which there were savoury flesh- 
^)ts. I need not bid you make haste down, for you 
are, excepting always my Great Master, my only 
comfort in these straights. I charge you to withdraw 



2g Tales of My Landlord. 

your feet from the delusion of that Vanity -fair ia 
whilk ye are a sojourner, and not to go to their wor- 
ship, whilk is an ill mumbled mass, as it was weel 
termed by James the Sext, though he afterwards, 
with his unhappy son, strove to bring it ower back 
and belly into his native kingdom, wherethrough their 
race have been cut off as foam upon the water, and 
shall be as w anderers among the nations — see the pro- 
phecies of Rosea, ninth and seventeenth, and the 
same, tenth and seventh. But us and our house, let 
us say with the same prophet; "Let us return to the 
Lord, for he hath torn and he will heal us — He hath 
smitten, and he will bind us up." 

He proceeded to say, that he approved of her pro- 
posed mode of returning by Glasgow, and entered into 
sundry minute particulars not necessary to be quoted. 
A single line in the letter, but not the least frequently 
I'ead by the party to whom it was addressed, intimat- 
ed, that " Reuben Butler had been as a son to him in 
his sorrows." As David Deans scarce ever mention- 
ed Butler before, without some gibe, more or less di- 
rect, either at his carnal gifts and learning, or at his 
grandfather's heresy, Jeanie drew a good omen from 
no such qualifying clause being added to this sentence 
respecting him, 

A lover's hope resembles the bean in the nursery 
tale, — let it once take root, and it will grow so rapid- 
ly, that in the course of a few hours the giant Ima- 
gination builds a castle on the top, and by and by& 
comes Disappointment with the ** curtal axe," and 
liews down both the plant and the superstructure. 
Jeanie's fancy, though not the most powerful of her 
faculties, was lively enough to transport lier to a wild 
farm in Northumberland, well stocked with milk-cows, 
yield beasts and sheep; a meeting-house hard by, fre- 
quented by serious Presbyterians, who had united in 
a harmonious call to Reuben Butler to be tlieir spiri- 
tual guide; — Effie restored, not to gaiety, but to cheer- 
fulness at least; — their father, with his grey hairs 
smoothed down, and spectacles on his nose; — herself 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. i23 

with the maiden snood exchanged for a matron's curch 
— all arranged in a pew in the said meeting-house, 
listening to words of de\ otion, rendered sweeter and 
more powerful by the affectionate ties which combined 
tliem with the preacher. She cherished such visions 
from day to day, until her re.sidence in London began 
to become unsupportable and tedious to her, and it was 
with no ordinary satisfaction that she received a sum- 
mons from Argyle-house, requiring her in two days 
to be prepared to join their northward party. 



m Tales of Mij Landlord. 



CHAPTER III. 

One was a female, who had grievous ill 
Wrought in revenge, and she enjoyed it still; 
Sullen she was, and threatening; in her eye 
Glared the stern triumph that she dared to die. 

Crabbe. 

The summons of preparation arrived after Jeanie 
Deans had resided in the metropolis about three 
weeks. 

On the morning appointed she took a grateful fare- 
well of Mrs. Glass, as that good woman's attention to 
her particularly required, placed herself and her move- 
able goods, which purchases and presents had greatly 
increased, in a hackney-coach, and joined her travel- 
ling companions in the housekeeper's apartment at 
Argyle-house. While tlie carriage was getting ready, 
she was informed that the duke wished to speak with 
her; and being ushered into a splendid saloon, she was 
surprised to find that he wished to present her to his 
lady and daughters. 

"I bring you my little countrywoman, duchess," 
these were the words of the introduction ; ** With an 
army of young fellows, as gallant and steady as she 
is, and a good cause, I would not fear two to one." 

" Ah, papa!" said a lively young lady, about twelve 
years old, << remember, you were full one to two at 
Sheriff-muir, and yet," (singing the well-known bal- 
lad) — 

" Some say that we wan, and some say that they wan, 

And some say that nane wan at a', man ; 
But of ae thing I'm sure, that on Sheriff-muir 

A battle there was that I saw, man." 

"What, little Mary turned tory on my hands? — 
This will be fine news for our countrywoman to carry 
down to Scotland !" 

" We may all turn tories for the thanks we have 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian^ 25 

gotten for remaining whigs," said the second young 
lady. 

*< Well, hold your peace, you discontented monkies, 
and go dress your habies ; and as for the Bob of Dum- 
blanc, 

" If it wasna weel bobbit, weel bobbit, weel bobbit. 
If it wasna weel bobbit, we'll bobb it again," 

<< Papa's wit is running low," said lady Mary ; 
" the poor gentleman is repeating himself — he sang 
that on the field of battle, when he was told the High- 
landei s had cut his left wing to pieces with their clay- 
mores." 

A pull by the hair was the repartee to this sally. 

" Ah ! brave Highlanders and bright claymores," 
said the duke, " well do I wish them, ' for a' the ill 
they hae done me yet,' as the song goes. — But come, 
madcaps, say a civil word to your countrywoman — I 
wish you liad half her canny hamely sense ^ I think 
you may be as leal and true-hearted," 

*• The duchess advanced, and, in few words, in which 
there was as much kindness as civility, assured Jeanie 
of the respect which she had for a character so affec- 
tionate, and yet so firm, and added, " When you get 
home, you will perhaps hear from me." 

** And from me." " And from me." " And from 
me, Jeanie," added the young ladies, one after ano- 
ther, " for you are a credit to the land we love so 
well." 

Jeanie, overpowered with these unexpected com- 
pliments, and not aware that the duke's investigation 
had made him acquainted with her behaviour on her 
sister's trial, could only answer b- blushing, and curt- 
seying round and around, and u.iering at intervals, 
" Mony thanks ! mony thanks !" 

" Jeanie," said the duke, " you must have doch an* 
dorroch, or you will be unable to travel." 

There was a salver with cake and wine on the table. 
He took up a gltf^s, drank " to all true hearts that 
io*cd Scotland," and offered a glass to his guest. 



26 Tales of Mtj Landlord. 

Jeanie, however, declined it, saying, *• that she had 
never tasted wine in her life." 

f* How comes that, Jeanie?" said the duke, — " wine 
maketh glad the heart, you know." 

" Ay, sir, but my fatJier is like Jonadab the son of 
Rechab, who charged his children that they should 
drink no wine." 

" I thought your father would have had more sense," 
said the duke, " unless, indeed, he prefers brandy. 
But, however, Jeanie, if you will not drink, you must 
eat, to save the character of my house." 

He thrust upon her a large piece of cake, nor would 
he permit her to break off a fragment, and lay the rest 
on the salver. " Put it in your pouch, Jeanie," said 
he ; " you will be glad of it before you see St. Giles's 
steeple. I wish to heaven I were to see it as soon as 
you ! and so my best service to all my friends at and 
about Auld Reekie, and a blithe journey to you." 

And, mixing the frankness of a soldier with his na- 
tural affability, he shook hands with his protegee, and 
committed her to the charge of Archibald, satisfied 
that lie had provided sufficiently for her being attend- 
ed to by his domestics, from the unusual attention with 
which he had himself treated her. 

Accordingly, in the course of her journey, she found 
both her companions disposed to pay her every pos- 
sible attention, so tliat her return, in point of ease 
and safety, formed a strong contrast to her journey 
to London. 

Her heart also was disburthened of the weight of 
grief, shame, apprehension, and fear, which had load- 
ed her before her interview with the queen at Rich- 
mond. But the human mind is so strangely capri- 
cious, that, when freed from the pressure of real mise- 
ry, it becomes open and sensitive to the appreheiision 
of ideal calamities. She was now much disturbed in 
mind, that she had heard nothing from Reuben Butler, 
to whom the operation of writing was so much more 
familiar than it was to herself. 

" It would have cost him sae little fash," she said 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, ^7 

to herself^ "for I hae seen his pen gang as fast owcr 
the paper, as ever it did ower the water when it was 
in the grey goose's wing. Waes me ! maybe he may 
be badly — but tlien my father Avad likely hae said 
something about it. — or maybe he may hae ta'en the 
rue, and kens na how to let me wot of his change of 
mind. He needna be at muckle fash about it,'' — she 
went on, drawing herself up, though the tear of honest 
pride and injured affection gathered in her eye, as she 
entertained the suspicion, — " Jeanie Deans is no the 
lass to pu' him by the sleeve, or put him in mind of 
what he wishes to forget. I shall wish him weel and 
happy a' the same; and if he has the luck to get a 
kirk in our country, I shall gang and hear him just the 
very same, to show that I bear nae malice." And as 
she imagined the scene, the tear stole over her eye. 

In these melanclioly liveries, Jeanie had full time 
to indulge herself; for her travelling companions, ser- 
vants in a distinrviished and fashionable family, had, 
of course, many topics of conversation, in which it 
was absolutely impossible slic could have eitlier plea- 
sure or portion. She had, therefore, abundant leisure 
for reflection, and even for self-tormenting, durinej 
the several days which, indulging the young horses 
wiiich the duke was sending down to the north with 
suflScient ease and short stages, they occupied in 
reaching the vicinity of Carlisle. 

In approaching the vicinity of that ancient city, 
they discerned a considerable crowd upon an emi- 
nence at a little distance from the high road, and 
learned from some passengers who were gathering 
towards that busy scene from the southward, that the 
cause of the concourse was, the laudable public desire 
" to see a domned Scotch witch and thief get half of 
her due upo' Haribee-broo yonder, for she was only 
to he hanged ; she should hae been boomed aloive, 
an' cheap on't." 

" Dear Mr. Archibald," said the dame of the dairy 
elect, " I never seed a woman hanged in a' my life, 
and only four men, as made a goodly spectacle." 
VOL. IV. 4 



28 Tales of My Landlord, 

Mr. Archibald, however, was a Scotchman, and 
promised himself no exuberant pleasure in seeing hia 
countrywoman undergo "the terrible behests of law.'^ 
Moreover, he was a man of sense and delicacy in his 
way, and the late circumstances of Jeanie's family, 
with the cause of her expedition to London, were not 
unknown to him ; so that he answered drily, it was 
impossible to stop, as he must be early at Carlisle on 
some business of the duke's, and he accordingly bid 
the postillions get on. 

The road at that time passed at about a quarter of 
a mile's distance from the eminence, called Haribee 
or Harabee-brow, which, though it is very moderate 
in size and height, is nevertheless seen from a great 
distance around, owing to the flatness of the country 
through which the Eden flows. Here many an out- 
law, and border-rider of both kingdoms, had waver- 
ed in the wind, during the wars, and scarce less hos- 
tile truces between the two countries. Upon Hara- 
bee, in latter days, other executions had taken place 
with as little ceremony as compassion ; for these 
frontier provinces remained long unsettled, and even 
at the time of which we write, were ruder than these 
in the centre of England. 

The postillions drove on, wheeling, as the Penrith 
road led them, round the verge of the rising ground. 
Yet still the eyes of Mrs. Dolly Button, which, with 
the head and substantial person to which they belong- 
ed, were all turned towards the scene of action, could 
discern plainly the outline of the gallows-tree, relieved 
against the clear sky, the dark shade formed by the 
persons of the executioner and the criminal upon the 
light rounds of the tall aerial ladder, until one of the 
objects, launched into the air, gave unequivocal signs 
of mortal agony, though appearing in the distance not 
larger than a spider dependent at the extremity of his 
invisible thread, while the remaining form descended 
from its elevated situation, and regained with all speed 
an undistinguished place among the crowd. This ter- 
mination of the tragic scene drew forth, of course, a 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 29 

squall from Mrs. Button, and Jeanie, with instinctive 
curiosity, turned her head in the same direction. 

The sight of a female culprit in the act of under- 
going the fatal punisliment from which her beloved 
sister had been so recently rescued, was too much, not 
perhaps for her nerves, but for her mind and feelings. 
She turned her head to the other side of the carriage, 
with a sensation of sickness, of loathing, and of faint- 
ing. Her female companion overwhelmed her with 
questions, with proffers of assistance, with requests 
that the carriage might be stopped — ^that a doctor 
might be fetched — that drops might be gotten — that 
burnt featbers and assafoetida, fair water, and harts- 
horn, might be procured, all at once, and without one 
instant's delay. Archibakl, more calm and consider- 
ate, only desired the carriage to push forward ; and it 
was not till they had got beyond sight of the fatal 
spectacle, that, seeing the deadly paleness of Jeanie's 
countenance, he stopped the carriage, and jumping 
out himself, went in search of the most obvious and 
most easily procured of Mrs. Button's pharmacopeia 
— a draught, namely, of fresh water. 

While Archibald was absent on this good-natured 
piece of service, damning the ditches which produced 
nothing but mud, and thinking upon the thousand 
bubbling springlets of his own mountains, the attend- 
ants on the execution began to pass the stationary 
vehicle, in their way back to Carlisle. 

From their half-heard and half- understood words, 
Je.»nie, whose attention was involuntarily rivetted by 
them, as that of children is by ghost stories, though 
they know the pain with which they will afterwards 
remember them, Jeanie, I say, could discern that the 
present victim of the law had died game, as it is term- 
ed by those unfortunates, that is, sullen, reckless, and 
impenitent, neither fearing God, nor regarding man. 

<< A sture woife, and a dour," said one Cumbrian 
peasant, as he clattered by in his wooden brogues, with 
a noise like the trampling of a dray-horse. 

<* She has gone to ho master, with he's name in 



30 Tales of My Landlord. 

her mouth," said another; " shame the country should 
be harried wi' Scotch witches and Scotch bitches this 
gate — but I say han^ and drown." 

" Ay, ay, Gaffer Tramp, take awa' yealdon, take 
awa' low — hang the witch, and there will be less 
scathe amang us ; myne owsen has been reckan this 
two-mont." 

" And mine bairns hae been crining too, mon," 
replied his neighbour. 

" Silence wi' your fule tongues, ye churles," said 
an old woman, Avho hobbled past them, as they stood 
talking near the carriage ; **this was nae witch, but 
a bluidy fingered thief and murtheress.^' 

<< Ay ? was it e'en sae, dame Hinchup ?" said one 
in a civil tone, and stepping out of his place to let 
the old woman pass along the foot-path — ** Nay, you 
know best, sure — but at ony rate, we hae but tint a 
Scot of her, and that's a thing better losttiian found." 

The old woman passed on without making any an- 
swer. 

<* Ay, ay, neiglibour," said Gaffer Tramp, " seest 
thou how one witch will speak for t'other — Scots or 
English, the same to them." 

His companion shook his head, and replied in the 
same subdued tone, ** Ay, ay, when a Sark-foot wife 
gets on her broomstick, the dames of Allonby are 
ready to mount, just as sure as the bye Avord gangs 
o' the hills, 

If Skiddaw hath a cap, 
Criffel wots full weel of that." 

*< But," continued Gaffer Tramp, " thinkest thou 
the daughter o' yon hangit body isna as rank a witch 
as ho ?" 

" I kenna clearly," returned the fellow, " but the 
folk are speaking o' swimming her i' the Eden.'^ 
And they passed on their several roads, after wishing 
each other good morning. 

Just as the clowns left the place, and as Mr. Archi- 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 31 

bald returned with some fair water, a crowd of boys 
and girls, and some of the lower rabble of more ma- 
ture age, came up from the place of execution, group- 
ing themselves with many a yell of delight around a 
tall female fantastically dressed, who was dancing, 
leaping, and bounding in tlie midst of them. A hor- 
rible recollection pressed on Jeanie as she looked on 
this unfortunate creature, and the reminiscence was 
mutual, for by a sudden exertion of great strength 
and agility, Madge Wildfire broke out of the noisy 
circle of tormentors who surrounded her, and clinging 
fast to the door of the calash, uttered, in a sound be- 
twixt laughter and screaming, "Eh, dye ken, Jeanie 
Deans, they hae hangit our mother ?" Then suddenly 
changing her tone to that of tlie most piteous en- 
treaty, she added, " O gar them let me gang to cut 
her dowft — let me but cut her down ! — she is my mo- 
ther, if she was waur than the deil, and she*ll be nae 
mair kenspeckle than half-hangit Maggie Dickson, 
that cried saut mony a day after she had been hangit ; 
her voice was roupit and hoarse, and her neck was 
a w ee agee, or ye wad hac kend nae odds on her frae 
ony other saut-wife." 

Mr. Archibald, embarrassed by the mad-woman's 
clinging to the carriage, and detaining around them 
her noisy and mischievous attendants, was all this 
while looking out for a constable or beadle, to whom 
he might commit the unfortunate creature. But see- 
ing no such pei'son of authority, he endeavoured to 
loosen her hold from the carriage, that they might 
escape from her by di'iving on. Tliis, liowever, could 
hardly be achieved without some degree of violence ; 
Madge held fast, and renewed her frantic entreaties 
to be permitted to cut down her motlier. " It was but 
a tenpenny tow lost," slie said, « and what was tliat 
to a woman's life ?" There came up, however, a par- 
cel of savage looking fellows, butchers and graziers 
chiefly, among whose cattle there had been of late a 
very general and fatal distemper, which their wisdom 
imputed to witchcraft. They laid violent hands on 
4* 



32 Tales of My Landlord. 

Madge, and tore her from the carriage, exclaiming, 
*« What, doest stop folk o' king's highway ? Hast no 
done mischief enow already, wi' thy murders and thy 
witcherings ?" 

" Oh Jeanie Deans — Jeanie Deans !" exclaimed 
the poor maniac, " save my motlier, and I will take 
ye to the Interpreter's house again, — and I will teach 
ye a' my honnie sangs, — and I will tell ye what came 

o' the " The rest of her entreaties were drowned 

in the shouts of the rabhle. 

" Save her, for God's sake ! — save her from those 
people !" exclaimed Jeanie to Archibald. 

** Slie is mad, but quite innocent; she is mad, gen- 
tlemen," said Archibald ; " do not use her ill, take 
her before the mayor." 

*' Ay, ay, w e'se hae care enow on her," answered 
one of the fellows: "gang thou thy gate^an, and 
mind thine own matters." 

<* He's a Scot by his tongue," said another ; " and 
an' he will come out o' his whirligig there, I'se gie 
him his tartan plaid fu' o' broken banes." 

It was clear nothing could be done to rescue Madge, 
and Archibald, who was a man of humanity, could 
only bid the postillions hurry on to Cai'lisle, that he 
might obtain some assistance to the unfortunate w^o- 
man. As they drove off, they heard the hoarse roar 
witli which tlie mob preface acts of riot or cruelty, 
yet even above that deep and dii-e note, they could dis- 
cern the screams of the unfortunate victim. They 
were soon out of hearing of the cries, but had no 
sooner entered the streets of Carlisle, tlian Archi- 
bald, at Jeanie's earnest and urgent entreaty, went to 
a magistrate, to state the cruelty which was likely to 
be exercised on this unhappy creature. 

In about an hour and a half he returned and report- 
ed to Jeanie, that the magistrate had very readily 
gone in person, with some assistants, to the rescue of 
the unfortunate woman, and that he had himself 
accompanied him ; that when they came to the mud- 
dy pool, in which the mob were ducking her;, accord- 



Tlie Heart of Mid-Lothian, 33 

ing to their favourite mode of punishment, the magis- 
trate succeeded in rescuing her from their hands, but 
in a state of insensibility, owing to the cruel treat- 
ment which she had received. He added, that he had 
seen her carried to the work-house, and understood 
that she had been brought to herself, and was expect- 
ed to do well. 

This last averment was a slight alteration in point 
of fact, for Madge Wildfire was not expected to sur- 
vive the treatment she had received ; but Jeanie 
seemed so much agitated, that Mr. Archibald did not 
think it prudent to tell her the worst at once. Indeed 
she appeared so fluttered and disordered by this alarm- 
ing incident, tliat, although it had been their intention 
to proceed to Longtown that evening, her companions 
judged it most advisable to pass the night at Carlisle. 

This was particularly agreeable to Jeanicy who 
resolved, if possible, to procure an interview with 
Madge Wildfire. Connecting some of her wild flights 
with the narrative of George Staunton, she was un- 
willing to omit the opportunity of extracting from 
her, if possible, some information concerning the 
fate of that unfortunate infant which had cost her sis- 
ter so dear. Her acquaintance with the disordered 
state of poor Madge's mind, did not permit her to 
cherish much hope that slie could acquire from her 
any useful intelligence ; but then, since Madge's mo- 
ther had suffered her deserts, and was silent for ever, 
it was her only chance of obtaining any kind of in- 
formation, and she was loth to lose the opportunity. 

She coloured her wish to Mr. Archibald by saying, 
that she had seen Madge formerly, and wished to 
know, as a matter of humanity, how she was attend- 
ed to under lier present misfortunes. That complai- 
sant person immediately went to the work-house, or 
hospital, in which he had seen the suff*erer lodged, 
and brought back for reply, that the medical attend- 
ants positively forbade her seeing any one. When 
the application for admittance was repeated next 
day, Mr. Archibald was informed that she had been 



34 'Tales of My Landlord, 

very quiet and composed, insomuch that the clergy- 
man, wlio acted as chaplain to the establishment, 
thought it expedient to read prayers beside her bed, 
but that her wandering fit of mind had returned soon 
after his departure ; however, her countrywoman 
might see her if she chose it. She was not expected 
to live above an hour or two. 

Jeanie had no sooner received this information, 
than she hastened to the hospital, her companions at- 
tending her. They found the dying person in a large 
ward, where there were ten beds, of which the pa- 
tient's was tlie only one occupied. 

Madge was singing when they entered — singing 
her own wild snatclies of songs and obsolete airs, with 
a voice no longer overstrained by false spirits, but 
softened, saddened, and subdued by bodily exiiaustion. 
She was still insane, but was no longer able to ex- 
press lier wandering ideas in the wild notes of her 
former state of exalted imagination. Theie was death 
in the plaintive tones of her voice, which yet, in this 
moderated and melancholy mood, had something of 
the lulling sound with which a mother sings lier in- 
fant asleep. As Jeanie entered, she heard first the 
air, and then a part of the chorus and words of what 
had been, perhaps, the song of a jolly harvest-home. 

*' Our work is ovei* — over now. 
The good man wipes his weary brow. 
The last long- wain wends slow away. 
And we are free to sport and play. 

** The night comes on when sets the sun. 
And labour ends when day is done. 
When autumn's gone, and wintei-'s come. 
We hold our jovial harvest-home." 

Jeanie advanced to the bed-side when the strain 
was finished, and addressed Madge by her name. 
But it produced no symptoms of recollection. On the 
contrary, the patient, like one provoked by interrup- 
tion, changed her posture, and called out, with an 
impatient tone, «♦ Nurse — nurse, turn my face to the 



4^- 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 35 

wa% that I may never answer to that name ony mair, 
and never see mair of a wicked world." 

The attendant on the hospital arranged her in her 
hed as she desired, \vith her face to the wall, and her 
back to the light. So soon as she was quiet in this 
new position, she began again to sing in the same low 
and modulated strains, as if she was recovering the 
state of abstraction which the interruption of her 
visitants had disturbed. The strain, however, was 
different, and rather resembled the music of the Me- 
thodist hymns, though the measure of the song was 
similar to that of the former. 

" When the fight of grace is fought, — 
When the marriage vest is wrought, — 
When faith hath chased cold doubt away. 
And hope but sickens at delay, — 
When charity, imprison'd here. 
Longs for a more expanded sphere. 
Doff thy robes of sin and clay; 
Christian, rise, and come away." 

The strain was solemn and affecting, sustained as 
it was by the patlietic warble of a voice which had 
naturally been a fine one, and which weakness, if it 
diminished its power, had improved in softness. Ar- 
chibald, though a follower of tlie court, and therefore 
a poco-curante by profession, was confused, if not 
affected ; the dairy-maid blubbered ; and Jeanie felt 
the tears rise spontaneously to her eyes. Even the 
nurse, accustomed to all modes in which the spirit 
can pass, seemed considerably affected. 

The patient was evidently growing weaker, as w as 
intimated by an apparent difficulty of breathing, which 
seized her from time to time, and by the utterance of 
low listless moans, intimating that nature was suc- 
cumbing in the last conflict. But the spirit of melody, 
which must originally have so strongly possessed this 
unfortunate young woman, seemed, at every interval 
of ease, to triumph over her pain and weakness. And 
it was remarkable, that there could always be traced 
in her songs something appropriate, though perhaps 



36 Tales of My Landlord. 

only obliquely or collaterally so, to lier present situ- 
ation. Her next seemed to be tbe fragment of some 
old ballad : 

"Cauld is my bed, Lord Archibald, 

And sad my sleep of sorrow ; 
But thine sail be as sad and cauld. 

My fause true-love! to-morrow." 

*' And weep ye not, my maidens free, 
Though death your mistress borrow; 

For he for whom I die to-day. 
Shall die for me to-mono w." 

Again she changed the tune to one wilder, less mo- 
notonous, and less regular. But of the words only a 
fragment or two could be collected by those who lis- 
tened to this singular scene. 

•* Proud Maisie is in the wood, 

Walking' so early ; 
Sweet Robin sits on the bush. 

Singing so rarely. 



*' * Tell me, thou bonny bird, 
"When shall I marry me ?'- 

* When six braw gentlemen 
Kirkward shall carry ye.* 



** • Who makes the bridal bed. 

Birdie, say truly ?' 
* The gray -headed sexton 

That delves the grave duly.' 



" The glow-worm o'er grave and stone 

Shall light thee steady ; 
The owl from the steeple sing, 

* Welcome, proud lady.' " 

Her voice died away witli the last notes, and she 
fell into a slumber, from which the experienced at- 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. S7 

tendant assured them, that she would never awake at 
all, or only in the death agony. 

Her first prophecy was true. The poor maniac 
parted with existence, without again uttering a sound 
of any kind. But our travellers did not witness this 
catastrophe. They left the hospital so soon as Jeanie 
had satisfied herself that no elucidation of lier sister's 
misfortunes was to be hoped from the dying person. 



3S Tales of My Landlord, 



CHAPTER IV. 

Wilt thou go on with me ? 
The moon is bright, the sea is calm, 
And I know well the ocean-paths .... 

Thou wilt go on with me. 

Thalaba. 

The fatigue and agitation of these various scenes 
had agitated Jeanie so much, notwithstanding her 
robust strength of constitution, tliat Archibahl judg- 
ed it necessary that she should have a day's repose at 
the village of Longtown. It was in vain that Jeanie 
herself protested against any delay. The duke of 
Argyle's man of confidence was of course conse- 
quential ; and as he had been bred to the medical pro- 
fession in his youtb, (at least he used this expression 
to describe liis having, thirty years before, pounded 
for six months in the mortar of old Mungo Mangel- 
man, the surgeon at Greenock,) he was obstinate 
whenever a matter of health was in question. 

In this case he discovered febrile symptoms, and 
having once made a happy application of that learned 
phrase to Jeanie's case, all further resistance became 
in vain ; and she was glad to acquiesce, and even to 
go to bed, and drink water-gruel, in order that she 
might possess her soul in quiet, and without interrup- 
tion. 

Mr. Archibald was equally attentive in another 
particular. He observed that the execution of the 
old woman, and the miserable fate of her daughter, 
seemed to have made a more powerful effect upon 
Jeanie's mind, than the usual feelings of humanity 
might naturally have been expected to occasion. Yet 
she was obviously a strong-minded, sensible young 
woman, and in no respect subject to nervous affec- 
tions ; and therefore Archibald, being ignorant of any 
special connexion between his master's protegee and 
these unfortunate persons, excepting that she had 



L 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 39 

seen Madge formerly in Scotland, naturally imputed 
the strong impression these events had made upon 
her, to her associating them with the unhappy circum- 
stances in vvhicli her sister liad so lately stood. He 
became anxious, therefore, to prevent any thing oc- 
curring which might recall tliese associations to Jea- 
Tiie's mind. 

Arcliihald had speedily an opportunity of exercis- 
ing this precaution. A pedlar brought to Longtown 
that evening, amongst other wares, a large broadside- 
sheet, giving an account of the " Last Speech and 
Execution of Margaret Murdockson, ^nd of the bar- 
barous Murder of her Daughter, Magdalene or Madge 
Murdockson, called Madge Wildfire ; and of her pi- 
ous Conversation with his Reverence Arch-deacon 
Fleming ;" which authentic publication had a])pa- 
rently taken place on the day they left Carlisle, and 
being an article of a nature peculiarly accei)table to 
such country-folks as were within hearing of the 
transaction, the itinerant bibliopolist had fortliwith 
added them to his stock in trade. He found a mer- 
chant sooner than he expected ; for Arcliihald, much 
applauding his own prudence, purchased the whole lot 
for two sliillings and ninepence : and the pedlar, de- 
lighted with the profit of such a wholesale transaction, 
instantly returned to Carlisle to supply himself with 
more. 

The considerate Mr. Archibald was about to com- 
mit his whole purchase to the flames, but it was res- 
cued by the yet more considerate tlairy-damsel, who 
said, very prudently, it was a pity to waste so much 
paper, which might crepe hair, pin up bonnets, and 
serve many other useful purposes ; and who promised 
to put the parcel into her own trunk, and keep it 
carefully out of the sight of Mrs. Jeanie Deans : 
« Though by the bye she had no great notion of folks 
being so very nice. Mrs. Deans might have had 
enough to think about the gallows all this time to en- 
dure a sight of it, without all this to do about it." 

Archibald reminded the dame of the dairy of the 
VOL. IV. 5 



40 Tales of My Landlord. 

duke*s very particular charge, that they should be at- 
tentive and civil to Jeanie ; as also they were to part 
company soon, and consequently would not be doomed 
to observing any one's health or temper during the 
rest of tlie journey. With which answer Mrs. Dolly 
Button was obliged to hold herself satisfied. 

On the morning they resumed their journey, and 
prosecuted it successfully, travelling through Dum- 
fries-shire and part of Lanarkshire, until they arriv- 
ed at the small town of Rutherglen, within about four 
miles of Glasgow. Here an express brought letters 
to Archibald trom the principal agent of the duke of 
Argyle in Edinburgh. 

He said nothing of their contents that evening ; 
but when they were seated in the carriage the next day, 
the faithful squire informed Jeanie, that he had re- 
ceived directions from the duke's factor, to whom his 
gi'ace had recommended him to carry her, if she had 
no objection, for a stage or two beyond Glasgow, 
Some temporary causes of discontent liad occasioned 
tumults in that city and the neighbourhood, which 
would render it unadvisable for Mrs. Jeanie Deans 
to travel alone and unprotected betwixt that city and 
Edinburgh ; whereas by going forward a little fur- 
ther, they would meet one of his grace's sub-factors, 
who was coming down from the highlands to Edin- 
burgh with his wife, and under whose charge she 
might journey with comfort and in safety. 

Jeanie remonstrated against this ari'angement. 
*« She had been lang," she said, *« frae hame — her fa- 
ther and her sister behoved to be very anxious to see 
her — there were other friends slie had that werena 
weel in health. She was willing to pay for man and 
horse at Glasgow, and surely naebody wad middle 
wi' sae harmless and feckless a creature as slie was. 
Slie was muckle obliged by the offer ; but never 
hunted deer langed for its resting-place, as I do to 
find myself at St. Leonard's." 

The groom of the chambers exchanged a look with 
his female companion, which seemed so full of mean- 
ing, that Jeanie screamed aloud — «< Mr. Archibald 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. 41 

— Mrs. Dutton, if ye ken of ony tiling that has hap- 
pened at St. Leonard's, for God's sake — for pity's 
sake, tell me, and dinna keep me in suspense !" 

<* I really know nothing, Mrs. Deans," said the 
groom of the chamber. 

<^ And I — I — I am sure, I knows as little," said 
the dame of the dairy, while some communication 
seemed to tremble on her lips, which, at a glance of 
Archibald's eye, she appeared to swallow down, and 
compressed her lips thereafter into a state of extreme 
and vigilant firmness, as if she had been afraid of its 
bolting out before she was aware. 

Jeanie saw that there was to be something conceal- 
ed from her ; and it was only the repeated assurances 
of Archibald that her father — her sister — all her 
friends, were, so far as he knew, well and happy, that 
at all pacified her alarm. From such respectable peo- 
ple as those with whom she travelled, she could ap- 
prehend no harm, and yet her distiess was so obvi- 
ous, that Archibald, as a last resource, pulled out and 
put into her hand, a slip of paper, on which these 
words were written ; — 

*< Jeanie Deans — You will do me a favour by go- 
ing with Archibald and my female domestic a day's 
journey beyond Glasgow, and asking them no ques- 
tions, which will greatly oblige your friend, 

<* Argyjle & Gkeenwich." 

Although this laconic epistle, from a nobleman, to 
whom she was bound by such inestimable obligations, 
silenced all Jeanie's objections to the proposed route, 
it rather added to than diminished the eagerness of 
her curiosity. The proceeding to Glasgow seemed 
now no longer to be an object with her fellow-travel- 
lers. On the contrary, they kept the left hand side 
of the river Clyde, and travelled through a thousand 
beautiful and changing views down the side of that 
noble stream, till, ceasing to hold its inland charactci-, 
it began to assume that of a navigable river. 



4£ Tales of My Landlord, 

<^ You are not for gaun intill Glasgow then ?" said 
Jeanie, as she observed that the drivers made no mo- 
tion for inclining their horses' heads towards the an- 
cient bridge which was then the only mode of access 
to St. M lingo's capital. 

<* No," replied Archibald ; ** there is some popular 
commotion, and as our duke is in opposition to the 
court, perhaps we miglit be too well received ; or they 
might take it in tbeir heads to remember that the 
captain of Carrick came down upon them with his 
higlilandmen in the time of Shawfield's mob in 1725, 
and then we would be too ill received. And at any 
rate, it is best for us, and for me in particular, who 
may be supposed to possess his grace's mind upon 
many particulars, to leave the good people of the 
Gorbals to act according to their own imaginations, 
without either provoking or encouraging them by my 
presence." 

To reasoning of such tone and consequence, Jeanie 
had nothing to reply, although it seemed to her to 
contain fully as much self-importance as truth. 

The carriage meantime rolled on ; the river ex- 
panded itself, and gradually assumed the dignity of 
an oestuary, or arm of the sea. The influence of the 
advancing and retiring tides became more and more 
evident ; and, in the beautiful words of him of the 
laurel wreath, the river waxed 

" A broader and a broader stream. 



The Cormorant stands upon its shoals, 
His black and dripping- wing's ^ 

Half opened to the wind." 

<* Which way lies Inverary ?" said Jeanie, gazing 
on the dusky ocean of Highland hills, which now, 
piled above each other, and intersected by many a 
lake, stretched away on the opposite side of the river 
to the northward. " Is yon high castle the duke's 
hoose 2" 



The Heart of Mid-Lothiaiu 42^ 

« That, Mrs. Deans ? — Lud lielp thee," replied 
Archibald, " that's the old castle of Dumbarton, the 
strongest place in Europe, be the other what it may. 
Sir William Wallace was a^overnor of it in the old 
wars with the English, and his grace is governor 
just now. It is always entrusted to the best man in 
Scotland." 

" And does tlie duke live on that high rock, then?" 
demanded Jeanie. 

" No, no, he has his deputy-governor, who com- 
mands in his absence ; he lives in the white house 
you see at the bottom of the rock — His grace does 
not live there himself." 

" I think not indeed," said the dairy -woman, upon 
whose mind the road, since they had left Dumfries, 
had made no very faA ourable impression ; " for if he 
did, he might go whistle for a daii'y -woman, an' he 
were the only duke in England. I did not leave my 
place and my friends to come down to see cows starve 
to death upon inlls as they be at that pig-stye of Elfin- 
foot, as you call it, Mr. Archibald, or to be perched 
up on the top of a rock, like a squirrel in his cage, 
hung out of a three pair of stairs' window." 

Inwardly cliuckling that these symptoms of reealci- 
tration had not taken place until the fair malcontent 
was, as he mentally termed it, under his thumb, Ar- 
chibald coolly replied, " That the hills were none of 
his making, nor did he know how to mend them ; but 
as to lodging, they would soon be in a house of the 
duke's, in a very pleasant island culled Roseneath, 
where tliey went to wait for shipping to take them to 
Inverary, and would meet the company with whom 
Jeanie was to return to Edinburgh." 

<< An island ?" said Jeanie, who in the course of her 
various and adventurous travels had never quitted 
terra firma, " then I am doubting we maun gang in 
ane of these boats ; they look unco sma', and the 
waves are something rough, and — " 

<' Mr. Arcliibald," said Mrs. Dutton, " I will not 
consent to it ; I was never engaged to leave the cohvi- 

5* 



44 Tales of My Landlord. 

try, and I desire yoii will bid the boys drive round 
by tlie other way to the duke's house." 

^< There is a safe pennace belonging to his grace, 
ma'am, close by," replied Archibald, «« and you need 
be under no apprehensions whatsoever." 

<' But I am under apprehensions," said the damsel; 
'* and I insist upon going round by land, Mr. Archi- 
bald, were it ten miles about." 

^< I am sorry I cannot oblige you, ma'am, as Rose- 
neath happens to be an island." 

" If it were ten islands," said the incensed dame, 
^< that's no reason wliy I should be drowned in going 
over the seas to it." 

^< No reason why you should be drowned, certainl}^ 
ma'am," answered the unmoved groom of the cham- 
bers, " but an admirable good one why you cannot 
proceed to it by land." And, fixed his master's man- 
dates to perform, he pointed with his hand, and the 
drivers, turning off the high-road, proceeded towards 
a small hamlet of fishing huts, where a shallop, some- 
what more gaily decorated than any which they had 
yet seen, having a flag which displayed aboar's-head, 
crested with a ducal coronet, waited with two or three 
seamen, and as many Highlanders. 

The carriage stopped, and the men began to un- 
yoke their horses, while Mr. Arcliibald gravely su- 
perintended the removal of the baggage from the car- 
riage to the little vessel. « Has the Caroline been 
long arrived ?" said Arcliibald to one of the seamen. 

«< She has been here in five days from Liverpool, 
and she's lying down at Greenock," answered the 
fellow. 

" Let the horses and carriage go down to Greenock 
then," said Archibald, " and be embarked there for 
Inverary when I send notice — they may stand in my 
cousin's, Duncan Archibald the stabler's. — Ladies," 
he added, " I hope you will get yourselves ready, we 
must not lose the tide." 

" Mrs. Deans," said the cowslip of Inverary, 
" you may do as you please — but I will sit here all 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 45 

night, rather than go into that there painted egg- 
shell — Fellow — fellow," (this was addressed to a 
Highlander who was lifting a travelling trunk,) " that 
trunk is mine, and that there hand-box, and that pil- 
lion mail, and those seven bundles, and the paper bag, 
and if you venture to touch one of them, it shall be 
at your peril." 

The Celt kept his eye fixed on the speaker, then 
turned his head towards Archibald, and receiving no 
countervailing signal, he shouldered the portmanteau, 
and without further notice of the distressed damsel, 
or paying any attention to remonstrances, which 
probably he did not understand, and would certainly 
have equally disregarded whether lie understood them 
or not, moved off with Mrs. Button's wearables, 
and deposited the trunk containing them safely in the 
boat. 

The baggage being stowed in safety, Mr. Archibald 
handed Jeanie out of the carriage, and, not without 
some ti'emor on her part, slie was transported through 
the surf and placed in the boat. He then offered the 
same civility to his fellow servant, but she was reso- 
lute in her refusal to quit the carriage, in which she 
now remained in solitary state, threatening all con- 
cerned or unconcerned with actions for wages and 
board-wages, damages and expenses, and numbering 
on her fingers the gowns and otlier habiliments, from 
which she seemed in the act of being separated for 
ever. Mr. Archibald did not give himself the trouble 
of makiiig many remonstrances, which, indeed, seem- 
ed only to aggravate the damsel's indignation, but 
spoke two or three words to the Highlanders in 
Gaelic ; and the wily mountaineers, approaching the 
carriage cautiously, and without giving the slightest 
intimation of their intention, at once seized the recu- 
sant so effectually fast that she could neither resist 
nor struggle, and hoisting her on their shoulders in 
nearly an horizontal posture, rushed down with her 
to the beach, and through the surf, and, with no other 
inconvenience than ruffling her garments a little, do- 



46 Tales of My Landlord, 

posited her in the boat ; but in a state of surprise, 
mortification, and terror, at her sudden transporta- 
tion, which rendered her absolutely mute for two or 
three minutes. The men jumped in themselves; one 
tall fellow remained till he had pushed oiF the boat, 
and then tumbled in upon his companions. They 
took their oars, and began to pull from the shore, then 
spread their sail, and drove merrily across the firth. 

*' You Scotch villain," said the infuriated damsel 
to Archibald, *< how dare you use a person like me in 
this way ?" 

" Madam,'' said Archibald, with infinite compo- 
sure, " it's high time you should know you are in the 
duke's country, and that there is not one of these fel- 
lows, but would throw you out of the boat as readily 
as into it, if such were his grace's pleasure." 

" Then the Lord have mercy on me !" said Mrs. 
Button. *• If I had had any on myself, I would ne- 
ver have engaged with you." 

<* It's something of the latest to think of that now, 
Mrs. Button," said Archibald ; " but I assure you, 
you will find the Highlands have their pleasures. You 
will have a dozen of cow-milkers under your own au- 
thority at Inverary, and you may throw any of them 
into the lake, if you have a mind, for the duke's head 
people are almost as great as himself." 

" This is a strange business, to be sure, Mr. Ar« 
chibald," said the lady ; " but I suppose I must make 
the best on't. — Are you sure the boat will not sink ? 
it leans terribly to one side, in my poor mind." 

^< Fear nothing," said Mr. Archibald, taking a 
most important pinch of snuff; *' this same ferry on 
Clyde knows us very well, or we know it, which is 
all the same ; no fear of any of our people meeting 
with any accident. We should have crossed from the 
opposite sliore, but for the disturbances at Glasgow, 
which made it improper for his grace's people to pass 
through tlie city." 

" Are you not afeard, Mrs. Deans," said the dairy- 
vestal, addressing Jeanie, who sat, not in the most 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. 47 

comfortable state of mhid, by the side of Archibald, 
who himself managed the helm ; — "Are you not afeard 
of these wild men with their naked knees, and of this 
nut-shell of a thing, that seems bobbing up and down 
like a skimming-dish in a milk-pail ?" 

« No — no — madam,'' answered Jeanie, with some 
hesitation, " I am not feared ; for I hae seen Hieland- 
men before, though I never was sae near them ; and 
for the danger of the deep waters, I trust there is a 
Providence by sea as well as by land." 

*< Well," said Mrs. Button, *< it is a beautiful thing 
to have learned to write and read, for one can always 
say such fine words whatever should befall them." 

ArcJiibald, rejoicing in the impression whicli Iiis 
vigorous measure had made upon the intractable 
dairy-maid, now applied himself, as a sensible and 
good-natured man, to secure by fair means the as- 
cendency which he had obtained by some wholesome 
violence ; and he succeeded so well in representing to 
her the idle nature of her fears, and the impossibility 
of leaving her upon the beach, enthroned in an empty 
carriage, that the good understanding of the party 
was completely revived ere they landed at Roseneath. 



48 Tales of My Landlord. 



CHAPTER V. 

— — Did Fortune guide. 
Or rather Destiny, our bark, to which 
We could appoint no port, to this blest place ? 

FiETCHEB. 

The islands in the Firth of Clyde, which the daily 
passage of so many smoke-pennoned steam-boats now 
renders so easily accessible, were, in our fathers* 
times, secluded spots, frequented by no travellers, and 
few visitants of any kind. They are of exquisite, yet 
varied beauty. Arran, a mountainous region, or 
Alpine island, abounds with the grandest and most 
romantic scenery. The Cumrays, as if to exhibit a 
contrast to both, are green, level, and bare, forming 
the links of a sort of natural bar, which is drawn along 
the mouth of the Firth, leaving large intervals, how- 
ever, of ocean. Roseneath, a smaller isle, lies much 
higher up the Firth, and towards its western shore, 
near the opening of the lake called the Gare-Loch, 
and not far from Loch -Long and Loch- Sean t, or the 
Holy-Loch, which wind from the mountains of the 
western Highlands to join the oestuary of the Clyde. 

In these isles the severe frost winds, which tyran- 
nize over the vegetable creation during a Scottish 
spring, are comparatively little felt ', nor, excepting 
the gigantic strength of Arran, are they much ex- 
posed to the Atlantic storms, lying land-locked and 
protected to the westward by the shores of Ayrshire. 
Accordingly, the weeping-willow, the weeping-birch, 
and other trees of early and pendulous shoots, flourish 
in these favoured recesses in a degree unknown in 
our eastern districts ; and the air is also said to pos- 
sess that mildness which is favourable to consumptive 
cases. 

The picturesque beauty of the island of Roseneath, 
in particular, had such recommendations, that the 



The Heart oj Mid-Lothian, 49 

carls and dukes of Argyle, from an early period, made 
it their occasional residence, and had their temporary 
accommodation in a fishing or hunting-lodge, which 
succeeding improvements have since ti-ansformed in- 
to a palace. It was in its original simplicity, when 
the little hark, which we left traversing the Firth at 
the end of last chapter, was approaching the shores of 
the isle. 

When they touched the landing-place, which was 
partly shrouded by some old low but wide-spreading 
oak-trees, intermixed with hazel-bushes, two or three 
figures were seen as if awaiting their arrival. To 
these Jeanie paid little attention, so that it was with a 
shock of surprise almost electrical, that upon being 
carried by the rowers out of tlie boat to the shore, she 
was received in the arms of her father ! 

It was too wonderful to be believed — too much like 
a happy dream to have the stable feeling of reality — 
she extricated herself from his close and affectionate 
embrace, and held him at arm's length to satisfy her 
mind that it was no illusion. But the form was indis- 
putable — Douce David Deans himself, in his best 
light-blue Sunday's coat, with broad metal buttons, 
and waistcoat and breeches of the same, his strong gra- 
mashes or leggins of thick grey cloth, the very copper- 
buckles — the broad Lowland blue bonnet, thrown back 
as he lifted his eyes to Heaven in speechless grati- 
tude — the grey locks that straggled from beneath it 
down his weather-beaten " haffets" — the bald and 
furrowed forehead — the clear blue eye, tliat, undim- 
med by years, gleamed bright and pale from under its 
shaggy grey pent-house — the features, usually so stern 
and stoical, now melted into the unwonted expression 
of rapturous joy, aifection, and gratitude — were all 
those of David Deans ; and so happily did they assort 
together; tbat, sliould I ever again see my friends 
Wilkie or Allan, I will try to borrow or steal from 
them a sketch of this very scene. 

" Jeanie — my ain Jeanie — my best — my maist du- 
tiful bairn — the Lord of Israel be thy father, for I 



50 7'ales of My Landlord, 

am hardly worthy of thee ! Thou hast redeemed our 
captivity — brought back the honour of our house — 
Bless thee, my bairn, with mercies promised and 
purchased ! — But he has blessed thee, in the good of 
wliich he has made thee the instrument," 

These words broke from him not without tears, 
though David was of no melting mood. Archibald 
had, with delicate attention, withdrawn the spectators 
from the interview, so that the wood and setting sun 
alone were witnesses of the expansion of their feel- 
ings. 

<< And Effie ? — and Effie, dear father !" was an in- 
terjectional question which Jeanie repeatedly threw in 
among her expressions of joyful thankfulness. 

** Ye will hear — ye will hear," said David hastily, 
and ever and anon renewed his grateful acknowledg- 
ments to Heaven for sending Jeanie safe down from 
the land of prelatic deadness and schismatic heresy ; 
and had delivered her from the dangers of the way, 
and the lions that were in the path. 

" And Effie ?" repeated her affectionate sister again 
and again. <* And — and — (fain would she have said 
Butler, but she modified the direct inquiry) — and 
Mr. and Mrs. Saddletree — andDumbiedikes — and a' 
friends ?" 

«« A'weel — a'wcel, praise to His name." 

<^And — and Mr. Butler — he wasna weel when I 
gaed awa'?" 

^< He is quite mended — quite weel." 

^^ Thank God— but O, dear father, Effie ?— -Effie V' 

«« You will never see her mair, my bairn," an- 
swered Deans in a solemn tone — '» You are the ae 
and only leaf left now on the auld tree — heal be your 
portion." 

" She is dead ! — She is slain ! — It has come ower 
late !" exclaimed Jeanie, wringing her hands. 

" No, Jeanie," returned Deans, in the same grave 
melancholy tone. «* She lives in the flesh, and" is aif 
freedom from earthly restraint, if she were as much 
alive in faith, and as free from the bonds of Satan," 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian, 51 

*<Tlie Lord protect us !" said Jeanie. « Can the 
unhappy bairn hae left yon lor that villain ?" 

« It is owcr truly spoken," said Deans — « She has 
left her auld father, that has wept and prayed for her 
— She has left her sister, that travailed and toiled for 
her like a mother — She has left the bones of her mo- 
ther, and the land of her people, and she is ower the 
march wi' that son of Belial- — She has made a moon- 
light flitting of it." He paused, for a feeling betwixt 
sorrow and strong resentment choked his utterance, 

" And wi' that man ? — that fearfu' man ?" said Jea- 
nie. " Aiid she has left us to gang aff wi' him ? — O 
Effie, Effie, wha could hae thought it, after sic a de- 
liverance as you had been gifted wi' !" 

" She went out from us, my bairn, because she was 
not of us," replied David. <« She is a withered 
branch, will never bear fruit of grace — a scape-goat, 
gone forth into the wilderness of the world, to carry 
wi' her, as I trust, the sins of our little congregation. 
The peace of the warld gang wi' her, and a better 
peace when she has the grace to turn to it. If she is 
of His elected, His ain hour will come. What would 
her mother have said, that famous and memorable 
matron, Rebecca M<Naught, whose memory is like a 
flower of sweet savour in Newbattle, and a pot of frank- 
incense in Lugton ? — B ut be it sae- — let her part — let her 
gang her gate — let her bite on her ain bridle — The Lord 
kens his time— She was the bairn of prayers, and 
may not prove an utter cast-away. But never, Jea- 
nie — never more le\ her name be spoken between you 
and me — She hath passed from us like the brook 
which vanisheth when the summer waxeth warm, as 
patient Job saith — let her pass and be forgotten." 

There was aniielancholy pause which followed these 
expressions. Jeanie would fain have asked more cir- 
cumstances relating to her sister's de])arture, but the 
tone of her father's prohibition was positive. She was 
about to mention her interview with Staunton at his 
father's rectory ; but, on hastily running over the 
particulars in her memory, she thought that, on the 

VOL. IV, 6 



52 Tales of My Landlord, 

whole, they were more likely to aggravate thai 
diminish his distress of mind. She turned, therefor 
the discourse from this painful subject, resolving 
suspend further enquiry until she shfjuld see Butlci 
from whom she expected to learn the particulars o 
her sister's elopement. 

But when was she to see Butler? was a questioi 
she could not forbear asking herself, especially whil^ 
her father, as if eager to escape from the subject o 
his youngest daughter, pointed to the opposite siiore o 
Dumbarton-shire, and asking Jeanie ^* if it werena 
pleasant abode ? declared to her his intention of re-^ 
moving his earthly tabernacle to that country, in re^ 
spect he was solicited by his grace the duke of Ari 
gyle, as one well skilled in country-labour, and a? 
that appertained to flocks and herds, to superintend 
store-farm, whilk his grace had ta'en into his ain hand 
for the improvement of stock." 

Jeanie's heart sunk within her at this declaration 
*« She allowed it was a goodly and pleasant land, an( 
sloped bonnily to the western sun ; and she doubtedns 
that the pasture might be very gude, for the gras! 
looked green, for as drouthy as the weather had been 
But it was far frae hame, and she thought she wad be 
often thinking on the bonny spots of turf, sae fu' of 
gowans and yellow king-cups among the Crags at St. 
Leonard's." 

« Dinna speak on't, Jeanie,'^ said her father ; << I 
wish never to hear it named mair — that is, after the 
rouping is ower, and the bills pai(k But 1 brought a' 
the beasts ower bye that I thought we wad like best. 
There is Gowans, and there's your ain brockit cow, 
and the wee hawkit ane, that ye ca'd — I needna tell 
ye how ye ca'd it — but I couldna bid them sell the 
creature, though the sight o't may sometimes gie us 
a sair heart: — it's no the poor dumb creature's fault — 
And ane or twa beasts mair I hae reserved, and I 
caused them to be driven before the other beasts, that 
men might say, as when the son of Jessie returned 
from battle, <This is David's spoil.' '' 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 5 3 

Upon more particular enquiry, Jcanie found new oc- 
casion to admire the active beneficence of lier friend 
the duke of Argyle. Wliile establishing a sort of ex- 
perimental farm on the skirts of his immense Hij^li- 
land estates, he had been somewhat at a loss to find a 
proper person in whom to vest the charge of it. The 
conversation his grace had upon country matters with 
Jeanie Deans during their return from Richmond, had 
impressed him with a belief that the father, whose ex- 
perience and success she so frequently quoted, must 
be exactly the sort of person whom he wanted. When 
the condition annexed to Effie's pardon rendered it 
highly probable that David Deans would chuse to 
change his place of residence, this idea again occurred 
to the duke more strongly, and as he was an enthu- 
siast equally in agriculture and in benevolence, he 
imagined he was serving the purposes of botli, when 
he wrote to the gentleman in Edinburgh entrusted 
with his affairs, to enquire into the character of Da- 
vid Deans, cow-feeder, and so forth, at St. Leonard's 
Crags ; and if he found him such as he had been re- 
presented, to engage him without delay, and on the 
most liberal terms, to superintend his fancy-farm in 
Dumbarton* shire. 

The proposal was made to old David by the gentle- 
man so commissioned, on the second day after his 
daughter's pardon had reached Edinburgh. His re- 
solution to leave St. Leonard's had been already 
formed ; the honour of an express invitation from the 
duke of Ai'gyle to superintend a department where so 
much skill and diligence was required, was in itself 
extremely flattering ; and the more so> because honest 
David, who was not without an excellent opinion of 
his own talents, persuaded himself that, by accepting 
this charge, he would in some sort repay the great fa- 
vour he had received at the hands of the Argyle fami- 
ly. The appointments, including the right of suffi- 
cient grazing for a small stock of his own, were amply 
liberal ; and David's keen eye saw that the situation 
was convenient for trafficing to advantage in Higli- 



54 Tales of My LandloriL 

land cattle. There was risk of <« her'ship" from the 
neigh hoiiring mountains, indeed ; but the awful name 
of tlie duke of Argyle would be a great security, and 
a trifle of Muck mail would, David was aware, assure i 
his safety. I 

Still, however, there were two points on which he 
haggled. The first was the character of the clergy- 
man with whose worship he was to join ; and on this 
delicate point he received, as we will presently show 
the reader, perfect satisfaction. I'he next obstacle 
was the condition of his youngest daughter, obliged as 
she was to leave Scotland for so many years. 

The gentleman of the law smiled, and said, « There 
was no occasion to interpret that clause \ei'y strictly ,g. 
— that if the young woman left Scotland for a fewH 
months, or even weeks, and came to her father's new 
residence by sea from the western side of England, 
no body would know of her arrival, or at least no 
body who had either the right or inclination to give 
her disturbance. The extensive heritable jurisdictions 
of his grace excluded the interference of other magis- 
trates with those living on his estates, and they who 
were in immediate dependence on him would receive 
orders to give the young woman no distui-iiance. Liv- 
ing on the verge of the Highlands, she might, indeed, 
be said to be out of Scotland, that is, beyond the 
bounds of ordinary law and civilization." 

Old Deans was not quite satisfied with this reason- 
ing; but the elopement of Effie, which took place on 
the third night after her liberation, rendered his resi- 
dence at St. Leonard's so detestable to him, that he 
closed at once with the proposal which had been made 
him, and entered with pleasure into the idea of sur- 
prising Jeanie, as had been proposed by the duke, to 
render the change of residence more striking to her. 
The duke had apprized Archibald of these circum- 
stances, with orders to act according to the instruc- 
tions he should receive from Edinbuigh, and by which 
accordingly he was directed to bring Jeanie to Rose- 
iieath. 



The Heart oj Mid-Lothian, 55 

The father and (laughter communicated these mat- 
ters to each other, now stopping, now walking slowly 
towards the lodge, which showed itself am^Hg the 
trees, at ahout lialf a siyle's distance from the little 
bay in which they had landed. 

As they approached the house, David Deans inform- 
ed his daughter, with somewhat like a grim smile, 
which was the utmost advance he ever made towards 
a mirthful expression of visage, that <« there was haith 
a worshipful gentleman, and ane reverend gentleman, 
residing therein. Tlie worshipful gentleman was his 
honour the laird of Knocktarlitie, who was baillie of 
the lordship under the duke of Argyle, ane Hieland 
gentleman, tarr'd wi' the same stick," David doubt- 
ed, «* as mony of them, namely, a hasty and choleric 
temper, and a neglect of the higher things that be- 
long to salvation, and also a gripping unto the things 
of this world, without muckle distinction of proper- 
ty — but, however, ane gude hospitable gentleman, 
with whom it would be a pa'rt of wisdom to live on a 
good understanding — (for Hielandmen wore hasty, 
ower hasty.) — As for the reverend person of whoui he 
had spoken, he was candidate by favour of the duke 
of Argyle (for David would not for the universe !iave 
called him presentee) to the kirk of th& parish in 
which their farm was situated, and he was likely to be 
highly acceptable unto the Christian souls of the pa- 
rish, who were hungering for spiritual manna, having 
been fed but upon sour Hieland sowens by Mr. Dun- 
can Mac-Donought, the last minister who began the 
morning duly, Sunday and Saturday, with a mutch- 
kin of usquebaugh. But I need say the less about the 
present lad," said David, again grimly grimacing, 
<< as 1 think ye may hae seen him afore ,• and here he 
is come to meet us." 

She had indeed seen him before, for it was no other 
than Reuben Butler liimseif. 
6* 



56 Tales of My Landlord, 



W CHAPTER VI. 

No more shalt thou behold thy sister's face ; 
Thou hast ah-eady had her last embrace. 

ElKGY on Mks. AsXE KlLLIGIlEVr, 

This second surprise had been accomplished for 
Jeanie Deans by the rod of the same benevolent en- 
chanter, whose power had transplanted her father 
from the Crags of St. Leonard's to the banks of the 
Gare-Loch. The duke of Argyie was not a person to 
forget the hereditary debt of gratitude, which had 
been bequeathed to him by liis grandfather, in favour 
of the grandson of old Bible Butler. He had inter- 
nally resolved to provide for Reuben Butler in this 
kirk of Knocktarlitie, of which the incumbent had 
just departed this life. Accordingly, his agent re- 
ceived the necessary instructions for that purpose, un- 
der the qualifying condition always that the learning 
and character of Mr. Butler should be found proper 
for the charge. Upon enquiry, these were found as 
liighly satisfactory as had been reported in the case 
of David Deans himself. 

By this preferment, the duke of Argyle more essen- 
tially benefitted his friend and protegee, Jeanie, than 
he himself was aware of, since he contributed to re- 
move objections in her father's mind to the match, 
which he had no idea had been in existence. 

We have already noticed tiiat Deans had something 
of a prejudice against Butler, which was, perhaps, in 
some degree owing to his possessing a sort of con- 
sciousness that the poor usher looked with eyes of af- 
fection upon his elder daughter. This, in David's 
eyes, was a sin of presumption, even although it should 
not be followed by any overt act, or actual proposal. 
But the lively interest which Butler had displayed in 
his distresses, since Jeanie set forth on her London 
expedition, and which, therefore, he ascribed to per- 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. 57 

sonal respect for himself individually, liad greatly 
softened the feelings of irritability with which David 
had sometimes regarded him. And while he was in 
this good disposition towards Butler, another incident 
took place which had ^reat inftuence on the old man's 
mind. 

So soon as the shock of Effie's second elopement 
was over, it was Deans's early care to collect and re- 
fund to the laird of Dumbiedikes the money which he 
had lent for Effie's trial, and for Jeanie*s travelling 
expenses. The laird, the poney, the cocked-hat, and 
the tobacco-pipe, had not been seen at St. Leonard's 
Crags for many a day; so that, in order to pa> this 
debt, David was under the necessity of repairing in 
person to the mansion of Dumbiedikes. 

He found it in a state of unexpected bustle. There 
were workmen pulling down some of the old hangings, 
and replacing them with others, altering, repairing, 
scrubbing, painting, and white-washing. There was 
no knowing the old house, which had been so long the 
mansion of sloth and silence. The laird himself seem- 
ed in some confusion, and his reception, though kind, 
lacked something of the reverential cordiality with 
whicii he used to greet David Deans. There was a 
change also, David did not very well know what, 
about the exterior of this landed proprietor — an im- 
provement in the shape of his garments, a spruceness 
in the air with which they were put on, that were both 
novelties. Even the old hat looked smarter; the cock 
had been newly pointed, the lace had been refreshed, 
and instead of slouching backward or forward on the 
laird's head, as it happened to be thrown on, it was 
adjusted with a knowing inclination over one eye. 

David Deans opened his business, and told down 
the cash. Dtimbiedikes inclined his ear to the one, 
and counted the otlier with great accuracy, interrupt- 
ing David, wliile he was talking of the re'demption of 
the captivity of Judah, to ask him whether he did not 
think one or two of the guineas looked rather light. 
When he was satisfied on this point, had pocketted 



58 Tales of My Lanlllonl, 

his money, and had signed a receipt, he addressed 
David with some little hesitation, — <« Jeanie wad be 
writing ye something*, gfudeman ?" 

« About the siiler?'^ i'eplied Davie — "Naedoubt> 
she did." 

« And did she say nae mair about me r" asked the 
laird. 

"Nae mair but kind and Christian wishes — what 
suld she hae said," replied David, fully expecting that 
the laird's long courtship (if his dangling after Jeanie 
deserves so active a name,) was now coming to a 
point.. And so indeed it was, but not to that point 
which he wished or expected. 

<<Aweel, she kends her ain mind best, gudeman. 
I hae made a clean house o' Jennie Balchristie and 
her niece. They were a bad pack — steaPd meat and 
mault, and loot the carters magg the coals — I'm to be 
married the morn, and kirkit on Sunday." 

Whatever David felt, he was too proud and too 
steady-minded to show any unpleasant surprise in his 
countenance and manners. 

<< I wuss ye happy, sir, through Him that gies hap- 
piness — marriage is an honourable state." 

*< And I am wedding into an honourable house, Da- 
vid — the laird of Lickpelf's youngest daughter — she 
sits next us in the kirk, and that's the way 1 came to 
think on't." 

There was no more to be said, but again to wish 
the laird joy, to taste a cup of his liquor, and to walk 
back again to St. Leonard's, musing on the mutability 
of human affairs and human resolutions. The expec- 
tation that, one day or other, Jeanie would be lady 
Dumbiedikes, had, in spite of himself, kept a more 
absolute possession of David's mind, than he himself 
was aware of. At least, it had hitherto seeuied an 
union at all times within his daughter's reach, svhen- 
ever she might chuse to give her silent lover any de- 
gree of encouragement, and now it was vanished for 
ever. David returned, therefore, in no very gracious 
humour for so good a man. He was angry with Jea- 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. 59 

nie for not having encouraged the laird— he was an- 
gry with the lain] for requiring encouragement — and 
iie was aT)gry with himself for being angry at all on 
the occasion. 

On his return lie found the gentleman who managed 

j the duke of Argylc*s affairs was desirous of seeing 

' bim, with a view to completing the arrangement be- 
tween them. Thus, after a brief repose, he was 
obliged to set off anew for Edinburgli, so that old May 
Hettly declared, « Tliat a' this was to end with the 

I master just walking liimsel aff his feet." 

When the business respecting the farm had been 
talked over and arranged, the professional gentleman 
acquainted David Deans, in answer to his enquiries 
concerning the state of public worship, that it was the 
pleasure of the duke to put an excellent young clergy- 
man, called Reuben Butler, into the parish, which 
was to be his future residence. 

. "Reuben Butler!" exclaimed David — "Reuben 
Butler, the usher at Libberton?" 

" The very same," said the duke's commissioner ; 
*< his grace has heard an excellent character of him, 
and has some hereditary obligations to him besides — 
few ministers will be so comfortable as I am directed 
to make Mr. Butler." 

« Obligations ? — The duke ? — Reuben Butler ! — 
Reuben Butler a placed minister of the kirk of Scot- 
land !" exclaimed David, in interminable astonish- 
ment, for somehow he had been led by the bad success 
which Butler had hitherto met with in all iiis under- 
takings, to consider him as one of those step-sons of 

"fortune, whom she treats with unceasing rigour, and 
ends with disinheriting altogother. 

There is, perhaps, no time at which we are dispos- 
ed to think so higldy of a friend, as when we find 
him standing higher than we expected in the esteem 
of others. Wlien assured of the reality of liutler's 
change of prospects, David expressed his great satis- 
faction at his success in life, which, he observed, was 
entirely owing to himself. « I advised hispuir grand- 



60 Tales of JJ/i/ Landlord, 

mother, who was but a silly woman to breed him up to 
the ministry ; and I prophesied that, with a blessing on 
his endeavours, ha would become a polislied shaft in 
the temple. He was sometliing ower pyoud o' his carnal 
learning, but a gude lad, and has the root of the mat- 
ter — as ministers gang now, where ye'll find ane bet- 
ter, ye'll find ten waur than Reuben Eutler." 

He took leave of the man of business, and walked 
homeward, forgetting his weariness in the various 
speculations to which this wonderful piece of intelli- 
gence gave rise. Honest Uavid had now, like other 
great men, to go to work to reconcile his speculative 
principles with existing circumstances; and, like 
other great men, when they set seriously about that 
task, he was tolerably successfid. 

« Ought Reuben Butler in conscience to accept of 
this preferment in the kirk of Scotland, subject as 
David at present thought that establishment was to 
the Erastian encroachments of the civil power?'* 
This was the leading question, and he considered it 
carefully. « The kirk of Scotland was shorn of its 
beams, and deprived of its full artillery and banners 
of authority; but still it contained zealous and fruc- 
tifying pastors, attentive congregations, and, with all 
her spots and blemishes, the like of this kirk was no 
where else to be seen upon earth." 

David's doubts had been too many and too critical 
to permit him ever unequivocally to unite himself with 
any of the dissenters, who, upon various accounts^ 
absolutely seceded from the national church. He had 
often joined in communion with sucli of the establish- 
ed clergy as approached nearest to the old presbyte- 
rian model and principles of 1640. And although 
there were many things to be amended in that sys- 
tem, yet he remembered that he, David Deans, had 
himself ever been a humble pleader for the good old 
cause in a legal way, but without rushing into right- 
hand excesses, divisions, and separations. But, as 
an enemy to separation, he might join the right hand 
of fellowship with a minister of the kirk of Scotland 



The Heart oj Mid-Lothian. 61 

in its present model. Ergo^ Reuben Butler might 
take possession of the parish of Knocktarlitie, with- 
out forfeiting his friendship or favour — Q. E. D. But, 
secondly, came the trying point of lay-patronage, 
which David Deans had ever maintained to be a com- 
ing in by the window, and over tlie wall, a cheating 
and starving the souls of a whole parish, for the pur- 
pose of clothing the back and filling the belly of the 
incumbent. 

This presentation, therefore, from the duke of Ar- 
gyle, whatever was the worth and high character of 
that nobleman, was a limb of the brazen image, a 
portion of the evil thing, and with no kind of con- 
sistency could David bend his mind to favour such a 
transaction. But if the parishioners themselves 
joined in a general call to Reuben Butler to be their 
pastor, it did not seem quite so evident that the exist- 
ence of this unhappy presentation was a reason for 
his refusing them the comforts of his doctrine. If 
the presbytery admitted him to the kirk, in virtue 
rather of that act of patronage, than of the general 
call of the congregation, that might be their error, 
and David allowed it was a heavy one. But if Reu- 
ben Butler accepted of the care as tendered to him 
by those whom he was called to teach, and who had 
expressed themselves desirous to learn, David, after 
considering and reconsidering the matter, came 
through the great virtue of if, to be of opinion that 
he might safely so act in that matter. 

There remained a third stumbling-block — the oaths 
to government exacted from the established clergy- 
man, in which they acknowledged an Erastian king 
and parliament, and homologated the incorporating 
union between England and Scotland, through which 
the latter kingdom had become part and portion of 
the former, wherein prelacy, the sister of popery, had 
made fast her throne, and elevated the horns of her 
mitre. These were symptoms of defection which had 
often made David cry out, «My bowels — my bow- 
els ! — I am pained at the very heart !" And he re- 



62 Tales of My Landlord. 

membered that a godly Bow-head matron Iiad been 
carried out of the Tolbooth church in a swoon, be- 
yond the reach of brandy and burnt feathers, merely 
on hearing these fearful words, <« It is enacted by the 
lords spiritual and temporal," pronounced from a Scot- 
tish pulpit, in the proem to the Porteous proclamation. 
These oaths were, therefore, a deep compliance and 
dire abomination — a sin and a snare, and a danger 
and a defection. But tliis Shibboleth was not always 
exacted. Ministers had respect to their own tender 
consciences, and those of their brethren ; and it was 
not till a later period that the reins were taken up 
tight by the general assemblies and presbyteries. The 
peace-making particle came again to David's assist- 
ance. If an incumbent was not called upon to make 
such compliances, and if he got a right entry into the 
church without intrusion, and by orderly appointment, 
why, upon the whole, David Deans came to be of 
opinion, that he might lawfully enjoy the spirituality 
and temporality of the cure of souls at Knocktarlitie, 
with stipend, manse, glebe, and all thereunto apper- 
taining. 

The best and most upright-minded men are so 
strongly influenced by existing circumstances, that it 
would be somewhat cruel to enquire too nearly what 
weight paternal affection gave to these ingenious 
trains of reasoning. Let David Deans's situation be 
considered. He was just deprived of one daughter, 
and his eldest, to whom he owed so much, was cut off, 
by the sudden resolution of Dumbiedikes, from the 
high hope which David had entertained, that she 
might one day be mistress of that fair lordship. Just 
while this disappointment was bearing heavy on his 
spirits, Butler comes before his imagination — no 
longer the half-starved thread-bare usher, but fat and 
sleek and fair, the beneficed miriister of Knocktarlitie, 
beloved by his congregation, — exemplary in his life, — 
powerful in his doctrine, — doing the duty of the kirk 
as never Highland minister did it before, — turning 
sinners as a colley dog turns sheep, — a favourite of 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, QS 

the duke of Arj^yle, and drawing a stipend of ^ighl;. ^ A 
^hundred ponds Scots, and foui LJihal4 ers of victual.^ *^^^^ .^ 
Here was a matoli, making up, in David's mind, in a 
tenfold degree the disappointment in the case of Dum- 
biedikes, in so far as the goodman of St. Leonard's 
held a powerful minister in much greater admiration 
than a mere landed proprietor. It did not occur to him, 
as an additional reason in favour of the match, that 
Jeanie might herself have some choice in the matter; 
for the idea of consulting her feelings never once en- 
tered into the honest man's head, any more than the 
possibility that her inclination might perhaps differ 
from his own. 

The result of his meditations was, that he was called 
upon to take the management of the whole affair into 
his own hand, and give, if it should be found possible 
without sinful compliance, or backsliding, or defection 
of any kind, a worthy pastor to the kirk of Knocktar- 
litie. Accordingly, by the intervention of the honest 
dealer in butter-milk who dwelt in LibbeHon, David 
summoned to his presence Reuben Butler. £v n 
from this worthy messenger he was unable to conceal 
certain swelling emotions of dignity, in so much, that, 
when the carter had communicated his message to the 
usher, he added, that " Certainly the gudeman of St. 
Leonard's had some grand news to tell him, for he 
was as uplifted as a midden-cock upon pattens.'* 

Butler, it may readily be conceived, immediately 
obeyed the summons. His was a plain charactei, in 
wliich worth and good sense and simplicity were th ; 
principal ingredients; but love, on this occasion, 
gave him a certain degree of address. He had receiv- 
ed an intimation of the favour designed him by the 
duke of Argyle, with what feelings those only can con- 
ceive, who have experienced a sudden prospect of be- 
ing raised to independence and respect, from penury 
and toil. He resolved, however, that the old man 
should retain all the consequence of being, in his own 
opinion, the first to communicate the important intel- 
ligence. At the same time, he also determined that 

VOL. IV. 7 



64 Tales ofMtj Landlord, 

in the expected conference he would permit David 
*Deaiffe to expatiate at length upon the proposal, in all 
•its bearings, without irritating him eitlier by inter-* 
ruption or contradiction. This last plan was the most 
prudent he could have adopted ; because, although 
there were many doubts which David Deans could 
himself clear up to his own satisfaction, yet he might 
have been by no means disposed to accept the solu- 
tion of any other person ; and to engage him in an 
argument would have been certain to confirm him at 
once and forever in the opinion which Butler chanced 
to impugn. 

He received his friend with an appearance of im- 
portant gravity which real misfortune had long com- 
pelled him to lay aside, and which belonged to those 
days of awful authority in which he predominated 
over widow Butler, and dictated the mode of cultiva- 
ting the crofts at Beersheba. He acquainted Reuben 
at great prolixity with the prospect of this changing 
his present residence for the charge of the duke of 
Argyle's stock-farm in Dumbarton-sliire, enumerated 
the various advantages of the situation with obvious 
self-congratulation 5 but assured the patient hearer, 
that nothing had so much moved him to acceptance, 
as the sense that, by his skill in bestial, lie could ren- 
der the most important services to his grace the duke 
of Argyle, to whom, «<in the late unhappy circum- 
stance," (here a tear dimmed the sparkle of pride in 
tlie old man's eye,) he had been sae muckle obliged. 

" To put a rude Hielandman into sic a charge, what 
could be expected but that he suld be sic a cJiiefest 
Jierdsman, as wicked Doeg the Edomite ; wliereas, 
while this grey head is to the fore, not a clute o'theni 
but sail be as weel cared for as if they were the fatted 
kine of Pharoah. — And now^, Reuben, lad, seeing we 
inaun remove our tent to a straiige country, ye will 
be casting a dolefu' look alter us, and thinking with 
whom ye are to hold council anent your government 
in thae slippery and backsliding times ; and nae doubt 
remembering, that the auld man, David Deans, was 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. 65 

made the insti'ument to bring you out of tlie mire of 
schism ami heresy, wherein your father's house de- 
lighted to wallow; aften also, nae doubt, when ye are 
pressed wi' insnaring trials and tentations and heart- 
plagues, you, that are lilce a recruit that is marching 
for tiie first time to the took of drum, will miss the 
auld bauld and experienced veteran soldier, that has 
felt the brunt of many a foul day, and heard the bul- 
lets whistle as aften as he has hairs left on his auld 
pow. 

It is very possible that Butler might internally be 
of opinion, that the reflection on his ancestor's par- 
ticular tenets might have been spared, or tliat he 
might be presumptuous enough even to think, that, at 
his years and with his own lights, he might be able to 
hold' his course without the pilotage of honest David. 
But he only replied, by expressing his regret, that 
any thing should separate him from an ancient, tried, 
and affectionate friend. 

** But how can it be helped, man ?" said David, 
twisting Jiis features into a sort of smile — " How caii 
we help it?" — I trow ye canna tell me that — Yc maun 
leave that to ither folk — to the duke of Argyle and 
me, Reuben. It's a gude thing to hae friends in this 
warld — how muckle better to hae an interest bevond 

itr 

And David, whose piety, though not always quite 
rational, was as sincere as it was habitual and fer- 
vent, looked reverentially upward, and paused. Mr. 
Butler intimated the pleasure with which he would 
receive his friend's advice on a subject so important, 
and Dars'id resumed. 

" What think ye now, Reuben, of a kirk — a regular 
kirk under the present establishment ? — Were sic of- 
fered to ye, wad ye be free to accept it, and under 
whilk provisions? — I am speaking but by way of 
cpu ry?" 

Butler replied, « That if such a prospect were held 
out to him, he would probably first consult whether 
he was likely to be useful to the parish he should be 
called to; and if there appeared a fair prospect of his 



Q6 Tales of My Landlord, 

proving so, his friend must be aware, that, in every 
other point of view, it would be highly advantageous 
for him/^ 

" Right, Reuben, very right, lad — your ain consci- 
ence is the first thing to be satisfied — for liow sail he 
teach others that has himsel sae ill learned the Scrip- 
tures, as to grip for the lucre of foul earthly prefer- 
ment, sic as gear and manse, money and victual, that 
which is not his in a spiritual sense — or wha makes 
his kirk a stalking-horse to tak aim at his stipend ? 
But I look for better things of you — and specially ye 
inaun be minded not to act altogether on your ain 
judgment, for therethrough comes sair mistakes, back- 
slidings, and defections, on the left and on tlie right. 
If there were sic a day of trial put to you, Reuben, 
yoii, v/ho are a young lad, although it may be ye are 
gifted wi' the carnal tongues, and those whilk were 
spoken at Rome, wliilk is now the seat of tlje scarlet 
abomination, and by the Greeks, to whom the gospel 
was as foolishness, yet nae-the-less ye may be entreat- 
ed by your weel-wishes to take the counsel of those 
prudent and resolved and weatherwithstanding pro- 
fessors, wha hae kenned what it was to lurk on banks 
and in mosses, in bogs and in caverns, and to risk the 
peril of the head against the honesty of the heart." 

Butler replied, «*That certainly, possessing such a 
friend as he hoped and trusted he had in the goodman 
himself, who had seen so many changes in the preced- 
ing century, he should he much to blame if he did not 
avail himself of his experience and friendly counsel.'* 

" Eneugh said^ — eueugh said, Reuben," said David 
Deans, with internal exultation; "and say. that ye 
were in the predicament whereof I hae spoken, of a 
surety I would deem it my duty to gang to the rute o' 
the matter, and lay bare the ulcers and imposthumes, 
and the sores and the leprosies, of this our time to 
you, crying aloud and sparing not." 

David Deans was now in his element. He com- 
menced his examination of the doctrines and belief of 
the christian church with the very Culdces^ fi'om 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 67 

whom he passed to John Knox, — from John Knox to 
the recusants in James the sixth's time, — Bruce, 
Black, Blair, Livingstone, — from them to the hrief, 
and at length triumphant period of the Preshyterian 
church's splendour, until it was over-run hy the Eng- 
lish independents. Then followed the dismal times 
of prelacy, the indulgences, seven in number, witli all 
their sliades and bearings, until he arrived at the 
reign of king James, in which he himself had been, in 
his own mind, neither an obscure actor nor an obscure 
sufferer. Then was Butler doomed to hear the most 
detailed and annotated edition of what he had so often 
heard before — David Deans's confinement, namely, in 
the iron cage in the Canongate Tolbooth, and the 
cause thereof. 

We should be very nnjust to our friend David 
Deans, if we sliould •< pretermit," to use his own ex- 
pression, a narrative which he held essential to his 
fame. A drunken trooper of the royal guards, Fran- 
cis Gordon by name, had chased five or six of the 
skulking whigs, among whom was our friend David; 
and after he had compelled them to stand, and was in 
the act of brawling with them, one of their number 
fired a pocket-pistol, and shot him dead. David used 
to sneer and shake his head when any one asked him 
whether he had been the instrument of removing tliis 
wicked persecutor from the face of the earth. In fact, 
the merit of the deed lay between him and his friend 
Patrick Walker, the pedlar, whose works he was so 
fond of quoting. Neither of them cared directly to claim 
the merit of silencing Mr. Francis Gordon of the life 
guards, there being some wild cousins of his about 
Edinburgh who might have been even yet addicted to 
revenge, but yet neither of them chose to disown or 
yield to the other the merit of this active defence of 
their religious rites. David said, that if he had fired 
a pistol then, it was what he never did after or before. 
And as for Mr. Patrick Walker, he has left it upon 
record, that his great surprise was, that so small a 
pistol could kill so big a man. These are the words 
7# 



68 Tales of My Landlord, 

of that venerable biographer, whose trade had not 
taught him by expei'ience, that an inch was as good 
as an ell. *< He," (Francis Gordon,) " got a shot in 
his head out of a pocket-pistol, rather fit for diverting 
a boy than killing such a furious, mad, brisk man, 
which notwithstanding killed him dead !" 

Upon the extensive foundation which the history of 
the kirk afforded, during its short-lived triumph and 
long tribulation:, David, with length of breath and of 
narration, which would have astounded any one but a 
lover of his daughter, proceeded to lay down his own 
rules for guiding the conscience of his friend, as an 
aspirant to serv e in the ministry. Upon this subject, 
the good man v^ent through such a variety of nice and 
casuistical problems, supposed so many extreme cases, 
made the distinctions so critical and nice betwixt the 
right hand and the left hand — betwixt compliance and 
defection— holding back and ste^^ping aside — slipping 
and stumbling— -snaies and errors — that at length, 
after having limited the path of truth to a mathema- 
tical line, he was brought to the broad admission, that 
each man's conscience, after he had gained a certain 
view of the difficult navigation which he was to en- 
counter, woidd be the best guide for his pilotage. He 
stated the examples and arguments for and against 
the acceptance of a kirk on the pi*esent revolution 
model, with much moi-e impartiality to Butler than 
he had been able to place them before his own view. 
And he concluded, that he ouglit to think upon these 
things, and be guided by the voice of his own con- 
science, whether he could take such an awful trust as 
the charge of souls, without doing injury to his own 
internal conviction of what is right or wrong. 

When David had concluded his very long harangue, 
which was only interrupted by monosyllables, or littl© 
more, on the part of Butler, the o!*ator himself was 
greatly astonished to find that the conclusion, at 
which he very naturally wished to arrive, seemed 
much less decisively attained than when he had ar* 
gued the case in his own mind. 



The Heart of Mid-Loihian. 63 

In this particular, David's current ot thinking and 
speaking only illustrated the very important and 
general proposition concerning the excellence of the 
publicity of debate. For, under the influence of any 
partial feeling, it is certain, that most men can much 
more easily reconcile themselves to any favourite mea- 
sure, when agitating it in their own mind, than when 
obliged to expose its merits to a third party, when the 
necessity of seeming impartial procures for the oppo- 
site arguments a much more fair statement than that 
which he affords it in tacit meditation. Having finish- 
ed what lie had to say, David thought himself obliged 
to be more explicit, and to explain that this w^as no 
hypothetical case, but one on which, (by his own in- 
fluence and that of the duke of Argyle,) Reuben But- 
ler would soon be called to decide. 

It was even with something like apprehension that 
David Deans heard Butler announce, in return to this 
communication, that he would take that night to con- 
sider on what he had said with such kind intentions, 
and return him an answer tlie next morning. The 
feelings of the father mastered David on this occa- 
sion. He ])ressed Butler to spend the evening with 
him — He ])roduced, most unusual at his meals, one, 
nay, tv/o bottles of aged strong ale. — He spoke of his 
daughter— of her merits — lier housewifery— 'her thrift 
— lier affection. He led Butler so decidedly up to a 
declaration of his feelings towards Jeanie, that, be- 
fore night-fall, it was distinctly understood she was 
to be the bride of Reuben Butler ; and if they thought 
it indelicate to abridge the period of deliberation 
which Reuben had stipulated, it seemed to be suffi- 
ciently understood betwixt them, that there was a 
strong probability of his becoming minister of Knock- 
tarlitie, providing the congi-egation were as willing 
to accept of him, as the duke te grant him the pre- 
sentation. The matter of the oaths, they agreed, it 
was time enough to dispute about, whenever the shib- 
boleth should be tendered. 



70 Tales of Mtj Landlord, 

Many arrangements were adopted that evening, 
winch were afterwards ripened by correspondence 
with the duke of Argyle's man of business, who in- 
trusted Deans and Butler with the benevolent wish of 
his principal, that they should all meet with Jeanie, 
on her return from England, at the duke's hunting- 
lodge in Roseneath. 

This retrospect, so far as the placid loves of Jeanie 
Deans and Re«iben Butler are concerned, forms a full 
explanation of the preceding narrative up to their 
meeting on the island as already mentioned. 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian. 7 1 



CHAPTER VII. 

" I come," he said, *' my Jove, my life. 
And — nature's dearest name — my wife : 
Thy father's honse and friends resign. 
My home, my friends, my sire are thine." 

LOGAK. 

The meeting of Jeanie and Butler, under circuna- 
stances promising to crown an affection so long de- 
layed, was rather affecting from its simple sincerity 
tlian from its uncommon vehemence of feeling. David 
Deans, whose practice was sometimes a little different 
from his theory, appalled tliem at first, by giving them 
the opinion of sundry of the suffering preachers and 
champions of his younger days, that marriage, though 
honourable by the hiws of Scripture, was yet a state 
over-rashly coveted by professors, and specially by 
young ministers, whose desire, he said, was at whiles 
too inordinate for kirks, stipends, and wives, which 
had frequently occasioned over-ready compliance with 
the general defections of tlie times. He made them 
aware also, that hasty wedlock had been the bane of 
many a savoury professor — that the unbelieving wife 
had too often revenged the text, and perverted the be- 
lieving husband — tliat when the famous Donald Car- 
gill, being then hiding in Lee-Wood, in Lanarkshire, 
it being killing-time, did, upon importunity, marry 
Robert Marshal of Starry Shaw, he had thus express- 
ed himself: " What hath induced Robert to marry 
this woman ? her ill will overcome his good< — he will 
not keep the way long — his thriving days are done.". 
To the sad accomplishment of which prophecy David 
said he was himself a living witness, for Robert Mar- 
shal having fallen into foul compliances with the ene- 
my, went home and heard the curates, declined into 
other steps of defection, and became lightly esteemed. 
Indeed he observed, tliat the great upholders of the 
standard, Cargill, Peden, Cameron, and Renwick, 



72 7\iles of My Landlord, 

Iia^f less delight in tying* tlie bonds of matrimony than 
in any other piece of their ministerial work ; and al- 
tliough they woiikl neither dissuade nor refuse their 
office, they considered the being called to it as an evi- 
dence of indifference on the part of those between 
whom it was solemnized to tlie many grieA ous things 
of the day. INotwithstanding, however, that mar- 
riage was a snare itnto many, David was of opinion 
(as, indeed, he had shown in liis pi*actice,) that it was 
in itself honourable, especially if times were such that 
honest men could he secure against being shot, hang- 
ed, or banished, and had ane competent livelihood to 
maintain themselves, and those that might come after 
them. ** And therefore," as he concluded something 
abruptly, addressing Jeanie and Butler, who, with 
faces as high-coloured as crimson, had been listening 
to his lengthened ai'gument for and against the holy 
state of matrimony, *< 1 will leave ye to your ain 
cracks/' 

As their private conversation, however interesting 
to tliemselves, might probably be very little so to the 
reader, so far as if respected their present feelings and 
future prospects, we shall pass it over, and only men- 
tion the information which Jeanie received from But- 
ler concerning her sister's elopement, which contained 
many particulars that she had been unable to extract 
from her father. 

Jeanie learned, therefore, that for three days after 
her pardon had arrived, EfFie had been the inmate of 
lier father's house at St. Leonard's — that the inter- 
Tiews betwixt David and his erring child, which had 
taken place before she w as liberated froni prison, had 
•been touching in the extreme; but Butler could not 
su|}press his opinion, that, when he was fieed from the 
apprehension of losing her in a manner so horrible, 
her father had tightened the bands of discipline, so as, 
in some degree, to gall the feelings and aggravate the 
irritability of a spiVit naturally impatient and petu- 
larit, and now doubly so from the sense of merited 
disgrace. 



The Heart of Mid'Lothinn. 73 

On the third night Effie disappeared from Saint 
Leonard's, leavin.^ no traces whatever of the route she 
had taken. Butler, however, set out in pursuit of 
her, and with mucli trouble traced lier towards a lit- 
tle landing-place, formed by a small brook which en- 
ters the sea betwixt Dalkeith and Edinburgh. Tliis 
place, which lias been since made into a small harbour, 
and surrounded by many small villas and lodging 
liouses, is now termed Portobello. At this time it was 
surrounded by a waste common, covered with furse, 
and unfrequented, save by iishing-boats, and now and 
then a smuggling lugger. A vessel of this description 
had been hovering in the Frith at the time of Effic's 
elopement, and, as Butler ascertained, a boat had 
come ashore in the evening on which the fugitive had 
disappeared, and had carried on board a female. As 
the vessel made sail immediately, and landed no part 
of their cargo, there seemed little doubt that they 
were accomplices of the notorious Robertson, and that 
that vessel had only come into the Frith to carry off 
his paramour. 

This was made clear by a letter which Butler him- 
self soon afterwards received by post, signed E. D., 
but without bearing any date of place or time. It was 
miserably ill written and spelt; sea-sickness having 
apparently aided the derangement of Eiiie's very ir- 
regular orthography and mode of expression. In this 
epistle, however, as in ail that tTiat unfortunate girl 
said or did, there was something to praise as Vvdl as 
to blame. She said in her letter, <* That she could 
not endure that her father and her sister should go 
into banishuient, or be partakers of her shame — tliat 
if her burt'ien was a heavy one, it was of her own 
binding, and she had tiie more riglit to bear it alone — 
that in future they could not be a comfort to her, or 
she to them, since every look and word of her father 
put her in niind of her transgression, and was like to 
drive Her mad — tliat she had nearly lost her judg- 
ment durin^-; tije three days she was at St. LeorMrd's 
—her father meant wecl by her, and all men, but he 



74 Tales o/Mtj Landlord, 



i' 



did not know the dreadful pain he gave her in castin^ 
up her sins. It' Jeanie had been at hame, it might liae 
dune better — Jeanie was ane, like tlie angels in Hea- 
ven, that i-ather weep for sinners, as reckon their 
transgressions. But slie should never see Jeanie ony 
mair, and that was the thought that gave her the sair- 
est heart of a' that had come and gane yet. On her 
bended knees would she pray for Jeanie night and day, 
baith for what she had done, and what she had scorn- 
ed to do, in her behklf; for what a thought would it 
have been to her at that moment o' time, if that up- 
right creature had made a fault to save her. She de- 
sired her father would give Jeanie a' the gear — her 
ain (i. e. Effie's) mother's and a' — She had made a 
deed, giving up her right, and it was in Mr. Novitt*s 
hand — Warld's gear was henceforward the least of 
her care, nor was it likely to be muckle her mister- 
She hoped this would make it easy for her sister to 
settle; and immediately after this expression, she 
wished Butler himself all good things, in return for 
his kindness to her. « For herself," she said, <« she 
kenn'd her h)t would be a waesome ane, but it was of 
her own framing, sae she desired the less pity. But 
for her friends' satisfaction, she wished them to know 
that she was gaun nae ill gate — that they who had 
done her maist wrong were now willing to do her what 
justice was in their, power ,• and she would, in some 
respects, be far better off than she deserved. But she 
desired her family to remain satisfied with this assur- 
ance, and give themselves no trouble in making fur- 
ther enquiries after her." 

To David Deans and to Butler this letter gave 
very little comfort ; for what was to be expected from 
this unfortunate girl's uniting her fate to that of a 
character so notorious as Robertson, who they rea- 
dily guessed was alluded to in the last sentence, ex- 
cepting that she should become tlie partner and vic- 
tim of his future crimes. Jeanie, who knew George 
Staunton's character, and real rank, saw her sister's 
situation under a ray of better hope. She augured 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. 75 

well of the haste he had shewn to reclaim his interest 
in Effie, and she trusted he had made her his wife. If 
so, it seemed improhahle that, with liis expected for- 
tune, and high connections, he should again resume 
the life of criminal adventure which he had led, espe- 
cially since, as matters stood, his life depended upon 
his keeping his own secret, which could only be done 
by an entire change of his habits, and particularly by 
avoiding all those who had known the heir of Wil- 
lingham under the character of the audacious, crimi- 
nal, and condemned Robertson. 

She thought it most likely that they would go 
abroad for a few years, and not return to England 
until the affair of Porteous was totally forgotten. 
Jeanie, therefore, saw more hopes for her sister than 
Butler or her father had been able to perceive; but 
she was not at liberty to impart the comfort vvhich she 
felt in believing that she would be secure from the 
pressure of poverty, and in little risk of being se- 
duced into the paths of guilt. She could not have 
explained this without making public what it was es- 
sentially necessary for Effie's chance of comfort to 
conceal, the identity namely of George Staunton and 
George Robertson. After all, it was dreadful to think 
that Effie had united herself to a man condemned for 
felony, and liable to trial for murder, whatever were 
his rank in life, and the degi'ee of his remorse. Be- 
sides, it was melancholy to reflect, that, she herself 
being in possession of the whole dreadful secret, it 
was most probable lie would, out of regard to his own 
feelings, and fear for his safety, never again permit 
her to see poor Effie. After perusing and re-perusing 
her sister's valedictory letter, she gave ease to her 
I feelings in a flood of tears, which Butler in vain en- 
deavoured to check by every sootliing attention in 
his power. She was obliged, however, at length, to 
■look up and wipe her eyes, for her fathej', thinking 
I he had allowed the lovers time enough for conference, 
was new advancing towai'ds them from tlie lodge, ac- 
companied by the captain of Knockdunder, or,''as lu3 

I VOL. IV, 8 



76 Tales of My Landlard. 

friends called him for brevity's sake, Duncan Knock, 
a title which some youthful exploits had rendered pe- 
culiarly appropriate. 

Tliis Duncan of Knockdunder was a person of first- 
rate importance in the island of Roseneath, and the 
continental parishes of Knocktailitie, Kilmun, and 
so forth ; nay, his influence extended as far as Cowal^ 
where, however, it was obscured by that of another 
factor. The tower of Knockdunder still occupies, 
with its remains, a cliff overhanging the Holy-Loch, 
Duncan swore it had been a royal castle; if so, it 
was one of the smallest, the space within only form- 
ing a square of sixteen feet, and bearing therefore a 
ridiculous proportion to the thickness of the walls, 
which was ten feet at least. Such as it was, however, 
it had long given the title of captain, equivalent to 
that of chatellain, to the. ancestors of Duncan, who 
were retainers of the house of Argyle, and held a 
hereditary jurisdiction under them, of little extent 
indeed, but wliich had great consequence in their 
€yes, and was usually administered with a vigour 
somewhat beyond the law. 

The present representative of that ancient family 
was a stout short man about fifty, whose pleasure it 
was to unite in his own person the dress of the High- 
lands and Lowlands, wearing on his head a black 
tie-wig, surmounted by a fierce cocked-hat, deeply 
guai-ded with gold lace, while the rest of his dress 
consisted of the plaid and philabeg. Duncan super- 
intended a district which was partly Highland, partly 
Lowland, and therefore might be supposed to combine 
their national habits, in order to show his impartial- 
ity to Trojan or Tyrian. The incongruity, however, 
had a whimsical and ludicrous effect, as it made his 
head and body look as if belonging to different indi- 
viduals ; or, as some one said who had seen the exe- 
cutions of the insurgent prisoners in 1715, it seemed 
as if some Jacobite enchanter, having recalled the 
sufferers to life, had clapped, in his haste, an Eng- 
lishman's head on a Highlander's body. To finish 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. 77 

the portrait, the bearing of the gracious Duncan was 
brief, bluff, and consequential, and the upward turn 
of his short copper-cnloured nose indicated that he 
was somewhat addicted to wrath and usquebaugh. 

AVhen this dignitary had advanced up to Butler and 
to Jeanie, <• 1 take the fieedom, Mr. Deans," he said, 
« to salute your daughter, whilk I presume this 
young lass to be — I kiss every pretty girl that comes 
to Roseneath, in virtue of my office." Having made 
this gallant speech, he took out his quid, saluted 
Jeanie with a hearty smack, and bade her welcome 
to Argyle's country. Then addressing Butler, he 
said, " Ye maun gang ower and meet tl»e carle min- 
isters yonder the morn, for they will want to do your 
job, and synd it down with usquebaugh doubtless— 
they seldom make dry wark in this kintra." 

« And the laird" — said David Deans. 

« The captain, man," interrupted Duncan ; « folk 
winna ken wha ye are speaking aboot, unless ye gie 
shentlemens their proper title." 

« The captain, then," said David, « assures me 
that the call is unanimous on the part of the parish- 
ioners — a real harmonious call, Reuben." 

<« I pelieve," said Duncan, « it was as harmonious 
as could pe expected, when the tae half o' the bodies 
were clavering Sassenach, and the t'other skirling 
Gaelic, like sea- maws and clack-geese before a storm. 
Ane wad hae needed the gift of tongues to ken pre- 
ceesely what they said — but I pelieve the best end of 
it was, < Long live MacCallummore and Knockdun- 
der.' — And as to its being an unanimous call^ I wad 
be glad to ken fat business the carles have to call ony 
thing or ony body but what the duke and mysell 
likes." 

« Nevertheless," said Mr. Butler, " if any of the 
parishioners have any scruples, which sometimes 
happen in the mind of sincere professors, I should be 
hapivy of an opportunity of trying to remove " 

« Never fash your peard about it, man," interrupt- 
ed Duncan Knock — <* Leave it a' to me. — Scruple \ 



78 Tales of My Landlord. 

de'il o' them has been bred up to scruple ony thing that 
they're bidden to do — And if sic a thing suld happen 
as ye speak o% ye sail see the sincere professor, as 
ye ca' him, towed at the stern of my boat for a few 
l*urlongs.-~ril try if the water of theHaly-Loch winna 
wash oft' scruples as vveel as fleas— Cot tamn! " 

The rest of Duncan's tiireat w^as lost in a growl- 
ing, gurgling sort of sound, which be made in his 
throat, and wiiich menaced recusants with no gentle 
means of conversion. David Deans would certainly 
have given battle in defence of the right of the 
Christian congregation to be consulted in the choice 
of their own pastor, which, in his estimation, was 
one of the choicest and most inalienable of their pri- 
vileges ; but he had again engaged in close conversa- 
tion with Jeanie, and, with more interest than he was 
in use to take in affairs foreign alike to his occupa- 
tion and to his religious tenets, was inquiring into the 
particulars of her London journey. This was, per- 
haps, fortunate for the new formed friendship betwixt 
him and the captain of Knockdunder, which rested, 
in David's estimation, upon the proofs he had given 
of his skill in managing stock, but, in reality, upon 
the special charge transmitted to Duncan from the 
duke and his agent, to behave with the utmost atten- 
tion to Deans and his family. 

"And now, sirs," said Duncan, in a commanding 
tone, *< I am to pray ye a' to come in to your supper, 
for yonder is Mr. x\rchibald half famished, and a Sax- 
on woman, that looks as if her een were fleeing out o* 
her head wi' fear and wonder, as if she had never 
seen a shentleman in a piiilabeg pefore." 

*< And Reuben Butler," said David, " will doubt- 
less desire ir.stantly to retire, that he may prepare his 
mind for the exercise of to-morrow, tijat his work 
mi.y suit the day, an J be an offering of a sweet savour 
in the nostrils of the reverend presbytery." 

" Hout tout, man, it's but little ye ken about them," 
interrupted the captain. «« Teil a ane o' them wad 
gie the savour of the hot venison pasty w hich I smell 



The Heart oj Mid-Lothian, 79 

(turning his squab nose up in the air,) a' the way frae 
the lodge, for a' that Mr. Putier, or you either, can 
say to them." - 

JDavid groaned, but judging he had to do with a 
Gallio, as lie said, did not think it worth his while to 
give battle. They followed the captain to the house, 
and arranged themselves with great ceremony round 
a well-loaded supper-table. The only other circum^ 
stance of the evening worthy to be recorded is, that 
Butler pronounced the blessing, tliat Knockdunder 
found it too long, and David Deans censured it as too 
short, from which the charitable reader may conclude 
it was exactly the proper length. 



g# 



§0 Tales of Mij Landlord. 



CHAPTER VIIL 

Now turn the Psalms of David ower, 
And lilt wi' holy clang-or ; 
Of double verse come gie us four. 
And skirl up the Bangor. 

Burks. 

The next was the important day, when, according 
to the forms and ritual of the Scottish Kirk, Reuben 
Butler was to be ordained minister of Knocktarlitie 

by the Presbytery of . And so eager were the 

whole party, that all, excepting Mrs. Button, the des- 
tined Cowslip of Inverary, were stirring at at early 
hour. 

Their host, whose appetite was as quick and keen 
as his temper, was not long in summoning them to a 
substantial breakfast, where there were at least a doz- 
en of different preparations of milk, plenty of cold 
meat, scores boiled and roasted eggs, a huge keg of 
batter, half a firkin herrings boiled and broiled, fresh 
and salt, and tea and coffee for them that liked it, 
whicli, as tlieir landlord assured them, with a nod and 
a wink, pointing, at the same time, to a little cutter 
which seemed dodging under the lee of the island, cost 
them little beside the fetching ashore. 

«< Is the contraband trade permitted here so open- 
ly?" said Butler. " I should think it very unfavoura- 
ble to the people's morals." 

<< Tlie duke, Mr. Putler, has gi'en nae orders con- 
cerning the putting of it down," said the magistrate, 
and seemed to think that he had said all that was ne- 
cessary to justify his connivance. 

Butler was a man of prudence, and aware that real 
good can only be obtained by remonstrance when re- 
monstrance is well-timed ; so for the present he said 
nothing more on the subject. 

When breakfast was half over, in flounced Mrs. 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 81 

Dolly as fine as a blue sacque and cherry-coloured 
ribbands could make her. 

" Good morrow to you, madam," said the master 
of ceremonies 5 <« I trust your early rising will not 
skaith ye." 

The dame apologized to captain Knockunder, as 
she was pleased to term their entertainer; " but, as 
we say in Cheshire," she added, « I was like the 
mayor of Altringham, who lies in bed while his 
breeches are mending, for the girl did not bring up 
the right bundle to my room, till she had brought up 
all the others by mistake one after t'other. — Well, I 
suppose we are all for church to-day, as I understand 
— Pray may I be so bold as to ask if it is the fashion 
for you north -country gentlemen to go to church in 
your petticoats, captain Knockunder." 

" Captain of Knockdunder, madam, if you please, 
for I knock under to no man ; and in respect of my 
garb, I shall go to church as I am, at your service, 
madam ; for if 1 were to lie in bed, like your major 
What-d'ye-callum, till my preeches were mended, I 
might be there all my life, seeing I never had a pair 
of them on my person but twice in my life, which I 
am pound to remember, it peing when the duke 
brought his duchess here, when her grace pehoved to 
be pleasured, so I e'en porrowed the minister's trews 
for the twa days his grace was pleased to stay — but I 
will put myself under sic confinemeat again for no 
man on earth, or woman either, but her grace being 
always excepted, as in duty pound." 

The mistress of the milking-pail stared, but, mak- 
ing no answer to this round declaration, immediate- 
ly proceeded to show, that the alarm of the preceding 
evening had in no degree injured her appetite. 

When the meal was finished, the captain proposed 
to them to take boat, in order that Mistress Jeanie 
migiit see her new place of residence, and that he 
himself might enquire whether the necessary prepa- 
rations had been made, there and at the Manse, for 
receiving the future inmates of these mansions. 



82 Talcs of Mij Landlord, 

This morning was delig-litful, and the huge moun- 
tain shadows slept upon the mirror'd wave of the 
Firth, almost as little disturhed as if it had been an 
inland lake. Even Mrs. Button's fears no longer 
annoyed her. She had been informed by Archibald, 
that there was to be some sort of junketting after the 
sermon, and that was what she loved dearly; and as 
for the water, it was so still that it would look quite 
like a party on the Thames. 

The whole party being embarked, therefore, in a 
large boat, which the captain called his coach and six, 
and attended by a smaller one termed his gig, the 
gallant Duncan steered strait upon the little tower of 
the old-fashioned church of Knocktarlitie, and the 
exertions of six stout rowers sped them rapidly on 
their voyage. As they neared the land, the hills ap- 
peared to recede from them, and a little valley, form- 
ed by the descent of a small river from the mountains, 
evolved itself as it were upon their approach. The 
style of the country on each side w^as simply pasto- 
ral, and resembled, in appearance and character, the 
desci'iption of a forgotten Scottish poet, which runs 
nearly thus: 

" The water gently down a level slid, 

With little din, but couthy what it made ; 

On ilka side the trees grew thick and lang". 

And wi' the wild birds' notes were a' in sang; 

On either side, a full bow-shot and mair. 

The green was even, gowany, and fair ; 

With easy slope on every hand the braes ^ 

To the hills' feet with scattered bushes raise ; 

With goats and sheep aboon, and kye below. 

The bonnie banks all in a swarm did go."* 

They landed in thisHighland Arcadia, at the mouth 
of the small stream which watered the deligiitful and 
peaceable valley. Inhabitants of several descriptions 
came to pay their respects to the captain of Knock- 
dunder, an homage which he was very peremptory 
in exactijjg, and to see the new settlers. Some of 
these were men after David Deans's own heart, elders 

* Ross's Fortunate Shepherdess. Edit. 1778, p. 23. 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. 83 

of the kirk-session, zealous professors, from the Len- 
nox, Lanarkshire, and Ayrshire, to whom the preced- 
ing duke af Argyle had given rooms in this corner of 
his estate, because they had suffered for joining his fa- 
ther the unfortunate earl during his ill-fatet! attempt 
in 1686. These were cakes of the right leaven for 
David regaling himself with ; and had it not been for 
this circumstance, he has been Iieard to say, « that 
the captain of Knockdunder would have swore him 
out of the country in twenty-four hours, sae awsome 
it was to ony thinking soul to hear his imprecations, 
upon the slightest temptation that crossed his hu- 
mour." 

Besides these, there were a wilder set of parishion- 
ers, mountaineers fi'om the upper glen and adjacent 
hill, who spoke Gaelic, went about armed, and wore 
the highland dress. But the strict commands of the 
duke had established such good order in this part of 
his territories, that the Gael and Saxons lived upon 
the best possible terms of good neighbourhood. 

They first visited the manse, as the parsonage is 
termed in Scotland. It was old, but in good repair, 
and stood snugly embosomed in a grove of syca- 
more, with a well-stocked garden in front, bounded 
by the small river, which was partly visible from the 
windows, partly concealed by the bushes, trees,, and 
bounding hedge. Within, the house looked less com- ■ 
fort^ble than it might !iave been, for it had been ne- 
glected by the late incumbent; but workmen had 
been labouring under the directions of the captain of 
Knockdunder, and at the expense of the duke of Ar- 
gyle, to put it into some order. The old " plenishing'^ 
had been removed, and neat, but plain household fur- 
niture had been sent down by the duke in a brig of 
his own, called the Caroline, and was now ready to 
be placed in order in the apartments. 

The gracious Duncan finding matters were at a 
stand among the workmen, summoned before him the 
delinquents, and impressed all wl»o heard him witli a 
sense of his authority, by the penalties with which he 



34 Tales of My Landlord, 

threatened them for their delay. Mulcting them in 
half their charge, he assured them, would he the least 
of it ; for, if they were to neglect his pleasure and the 
duke's, "he would be tamn'd if he paid them the 
t'other half either, and they might seek law for it 
where they could get it." The work-people humbled 
themselves before the offended dignitary, and spake him 
soft and fair; and at length, upon Mr. Butler recal- 
ling to his mind, that it was the ordination-day? and 
that the workmen were probably thinking of going to 
chuiTh, Knockdunder agreed to forgive them out of 
respect to their new minister. 

"But an I catch them neglecking my duty again, 
Mr. Putler, the teil pe in me if the kirk sliall be an 
excuse; for wiiat iias tlie like o' them rapparees to do 
at the kirk ony day put Sundays, or then either, if the 
duke and I has the necessitous uses for them ?" 

It may be guessed with what feelings of quiet sa- 
tisfaction and delight Butler looked forward to spend- 
ing his days, honoured and useful as he trusted to be 
in this sequestered valley, and how often an intelligent 
glance was exchanged betwixt him and Jeanie, whose 
good-humoured face looked positively handsome, from 
the expression of modesty, and, at the same time, of 
satisfaction, which she wore when visiting the apart- 
ments of wliich she was soon to call herself mistress. 
She was left at liberty to give more open indulgence 
to her feelings of delight and admiration, when, leav- 
ing the manse, the company proceeded to examine 
the destined habitation of David Deans. 

Jeanie found with pleasure that it was not above a 
musket-shot from the manse ; for it had been a bar 
to her happiness to tiiink she might be obliged to re- 
side at a distance from her father, and she was aware 
that there were strong objections to his actually liv- 
ing in the same house with Butler. But this brief 
distance was the very thing wliich she could have 
wished. 

The farm-house was on the plan of an improved 
cottage, and contrived with great regard to conveni- 



TJie Heart of Mid-Lothian. 85 

ence; an excellent little garden, an orchard, and a 
set of offices complete, according to the best ideas of 
the time, combined to render it a most desirable ha- 
bitation for the practical farmer, and far superior to 
the hovel at Woodend, and the small house at Saint 
Leonard's Crags. The situation was considerably 
higher than that of the manse, and fronted to the 
west. The windows commanded an enchanting view 
of the little vale over which the mansion seemed to 
preside, the windings of the stream, and the Firth, 
with its associated lakes and romantic islands. The 
hills of Dumbarton-shire, once possessed by the fierce 
clan of MacFaidanes, formed a crescent behind the 
valley, and far to the right were seen the dusky and 
more gigantic mountains of Argyleshire, with a sea- 
ward view of the shattered and thunder-splitten peaks 
of Arran. 

But to Jeanie, whose taste for the picturesque, if 
she had any by nature, had never been awakened or 
cultivated, the sight of the faithful old May Hettley, 
as she opened the door to receive them in her clean 
toy, Sunday's russet-gown, and blue apron, nicely 
smoothed down before her, was worth the whole va- 
ried landscape. The raptures of the faithful old 
creatui'e at seeing Jeanie were equal to her own, as 
she hastened to assure her "that baith the gudeman 
and tfie beasts had been as weel seen after as she 
possibly could contrive." Separating her from the 
rest of the company. May then hurried her young 
mistress to the offices, that she might receive the com- 
pliments she expected for her care of the cows. Jea- 
nie rejoiced, in the simplicity of her heart, to see her 
charge once more j and the mute favourites of our 
heroine, Gowans, and the others, acknowledged her 
presence by lowing, turning round their broad and 
decent brows, when they heard her well-known 
«« Pruh, my leddy — pruh, my woman," and, by va- 
rious indications, known only to those who have stu- 
died the animals' habits, shewing sensible pleasure as 
«he approached to caress them in their turn. 



86 Tales of My Landlord, 



1 



'< The very brute beasts are glad to see ye again," 
said May ; »♦ but iiae wonder, Jeanie, for ye were aye 
kind to b<"ast and body. And I maun learn to ca' ye 
mistress now, Jeanie, since ye hae been up to Lun- 
non, and seen the duke, and the king, and a' the 
braw folk. But wha kens," added the old dame slily, 
" what I'll hae to ca' ye forbye mistress, for I am. 
thinking it wunna lang be Deans." 

" Ca' me your ain Jeanie, May, and then ye can 
never gang wrang." 

In the cow-house which they examined, there w^as 
one animal, which Jeanie looked at till the tears 
gushed into her eyes. May, who had watched her 
with a sympathizing expression, immediately observ- 
ed, in an under tone, " The gudeman aye sorts that 
beast himsel, and is kinder to it than ony beast in 
the byre; and I noticed he was that way e'en when 
he was angriest, and had maist cause to be angry. — 
Eh sirs ! a parent's heart's a queer thing ! — Mony a 
warstle he has had for that puir lassie — ^I am think- 
ing he petitions mair for her than for yourself hinny ; 
for what can he plead for you but just to wish you the 
blessing ye deserve? And when I sleepit ayont the 
hall an, when we came first here, he was often ear- 
nest a' night, and I could hear him come ower and 
ower again wi', « Effie— puir blinded misguided thing!' 
it was aye < Effie! Effiie!'— If that puir wandering 
lamb comena into the sheepfauld in the Shepherd's ain 
time, it will be an unco wonder, for I wot she has 
been a child of prayers. O, if the puir prodigal wad 
return, sae blithely as the gudeman wad kill the fat- 
ted calf !— though Brockie's calf will no be fit for kill- 
ing this three weeks yet." 

And then, with the discursive talent of persons of 
her description, she got once more afloat in her ac- 
count of domestic affairs, and left this delicate and af- 
fecting topic. 

Having looked at every tiling in the officer and the 
dairy, and expressed her satisfaction with the manner 
in which matters had been managed in her absence, 
Jeanie rejoined the rest of tlie party, who were sur- 



Tht Heart of •Mid-Lotldan, 87 

veying the interior of the house, all excepting David 
Deans and Butler, who liad gone down to the church 
to meet the kirk-session and the clergymen of the 
presbytery, and arrange matters for the duty of the 
day. 

In the interior of the cottage all was clean, neat, 
and suitable to the exterior. It had been originally 
built and furnished by the Duke, as a retreat for a fa- 
vourite domestic of the higher class, who did not long 
enjoy it, and had been dead only a few months, so 
that every thing was in excellent taste and good or- 
der. But in Jeanie's bed-room was a neat trunk, 
which had greatly excited Mrs Dutton's curiosity, 
for she was sure that the direction, " For Mrs Jean 
Deans, at Auchingower, parish of Knocktarlitie," 
was the writing of Mrs Semple, the Duchess's own 
woman. May Hettley produced the key in a sealed 
parcel, w hich bore the same address, and attached to 
the key w as a label, intimating that the trunk and its 
contents were " a token of remembrance to Jeanie 
Deans, from her friends the Duchess of Argyle and 
the young ladies." The trunk, hastily opened as the 
reader will not doubt, was found to be fuU of wearing 
apparel of the best quality, suited to Jeanie's rank in 
life ; and to most of the articles tlie names of the par- 
ticular donors were attached, as if to make Jeanie 
sensible not only of the general, but of the individual 
interest she had excited in the noble family. To name 
the various articles by their appropriate names, would 
be to attempt things unattcmpted yet in prose or 
ihyme; besides, that the old-fashioned terms of man- 
teaus, sacks, kissing-strings, and so forth, would con- 
vey but little information even to the milliners of the 
present day. I shall deposit, however, an accurate 
inventory of the contents of the trunk with my kind 
friend. Miss Martha Buskbody, who has promised, 
should the pubHc curiosity seem interested on the sub- 
ject, to supply me with a professional glossary and 
commentary. Suffice it to say, tliat the gift was such 
as became the donors, and was suited to the situation 

vol. IV, 9 



88 Tales of Mtj Landlord, 

of the receiver; that every thing was handsome and 
appropriate, and nothing* forgotten which helonged to 
the wardrohe of a young person in Jeanie's situation 
in life, the destined bride of a respectable clergyman. 

Ai'ticle after article was displayed, commented 
upon, and admired, to the wonder of May, who de- 
clared, " she didna think the Queen had mair or bet- 
ter claise," and somewhat to the envy of the northern 
Cowslip. This unamiable, but not very unnatural, 
disposition of mind, broke forth in sundry unfound'ed 
criticisms to the disparagement of the articles, as they 
were severally exhibited. But it assumed a more di- 
rect character, when, at the bottom of all, was found 
a dress of white silk, very plainly made, but still of 
white silk, and French silk to boot, with a paper 
pinned to it, bearing, that it was a present from the 
Duke of Argyle to his travelling companion, to be 
worn on the day wiicn she should change her name. 

^Irs Button could forbear no longer, but wiusper- 
ed into Mr Archibald's ear, that it was a clever thing to 
be a Scotchwoman ; " She supposed all her sisters, and 
she had half a dozen, might have been hanged, with- 
out any one sending her a present of a pocket hand- 
kerchief." 

^< Or without your making any exertion to save 
them, Mrs Dolly," answered Archibald drily. — *tBut 
I am surprised we do not hear the bell yet," said he, 
looking at his watch. 

*' Fat ta teil, Mr Archibald," answered the Cap- 
tain of Knockdunder, " wad ye hae them ring the bell 
before I am ready to gang to kirk ? — I wad gar the 
bedral eat the bell rope, if he took ony sic freedom. 
But if ye want to hear the bell, I will just shew my- 
sel on the knowe-head, and it will begin jowing forth- 
with." 

Accordingly, so soon as they sallied out, and that 
the gold-laced hat of the Captain w as «een rising like 
Hesper above the dewy verge of the rising ground, 
the clash (for it was rather a clash than a clang) of 
the bell was heard from the old moss-grown tower^. 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 89 

and the clapper continued to thump its cracked sides 
all the while they advanced towards the kirk, Dun- 
can exhorting them to take their own time, '* for teil 
ony sport wad be till he came." 

Accordingly, the bell only changed to the final and 
impatient chime when they crossed the stile; and 
** rang in," that is, concluded its mistuned summons, 
when they liad entered the Duke's seat in the little 
kirk, where the whole party arranged themselves, 
with Duncan at their head, excepting David Deans, 
who already occupied a seat among the elders. 

The business of the day, with a particular detail of 
which it is unnecessary to trouble the reader, was 
gone through according to the established form, and 
the sermon pronounced upon the occasion had the good 
fortune to please even the critical David Deans, though 
it was only an hour and a quarter long, which David 
termed a short allowance of spiritual provender. 

The preacher, who was a divine that held many of 
David's opinions, privately apologized for his brevity 
by saying, <* That he observed the Captain w^as gaunt- 
ing grievously, and that if he had detained him longer, 
there was no knmving how long he might be in pay- 
ing the next term's victual stipend." 

David groaiied to find that such carnal motives 
could have influence upon the mind of a powerful 
preacher. He had, indeed, been scandalized by ano- 
ther circumstance during the service. 

So soon as the congreg^ation wei-e seated after 
prayers, and the clergyman had read his text, the 
gracious Duncan, after rummaging the leathern pui^e 
which hung in front of liis petticoat, produced a short 
tobacco-pipe made of iron, and observed, almost aloud, 
** I hae forgotten my spleuchan — Lachlan, gang down 
to the Clachan, and bring me up a pennyworth of 
twist." Six arms, the nearest within reach, present- 
ed, with an obedient start, as many tobacco-pouches to 
the man of oflice. He made choice of one with a nod 
of acknowledgment, filled his pipe, lighted it with the 
assistance of his pistol-flint, and smoked with infinite 



90 Tales of My Landlord* 

composure durin.^ the whole time of the sermon. At 
the end of the discourse he knocked the ashes out of 
his pipe, replaced it in Iiis sporran, returned the to- 
bacco-pouch or spleuchan to its owner, and joined in 
the prayer with decency and attention. 

At the end of the service, when Butler had been ad- 
mitted minister of the kirk of Knocktarlitie, with all 
its spiritual immunities and privileges, David, who 
had frowned, groaned, and murmured at Knockdun- 
der's irreverent demeanour, communicated his plain 
thoughts of the matter to Isaac Meiklehose, one of 
the elders, with whom a reverential aspect and huge 
grizzle wig had especially disposed him to seek fra- 
ternization. " It didna become a wild Indian,'* Da- 
vid said, '* much less a Christian, and a gentleman, 
to sit in the kirk puffing tobacco reek, as if he were 
in a change-house." 

Meiklehose shook his head, and allowed it was 
^* far frae beseeming — But what will ye say ? The 
Captain's a queer hand, and to speak to him about 
that or ony thing else that crosses the maggot, wad 
be to set the kiln a-low. He keeps a high hand ower 
the country, and we could na deal wi' the Hieland- 
men without his protection, sin' a' the keys o' the 
kintray hings at his belt; and he's no an ill body in 
the main, and maistry, ye ken, maws the meadows 
doun." 

^* That may be very true, neighbour," said David; 
** but Reuben Butler isna the man I take him to be, 
if he disna learn the Captain to fuff his pipe some 
other gate than in God's house, or the quarter be 
ower." 

'* Fair and softly gangs far," said Meiklehose; 
^* and if a fule may gie a wise man a counsel, I wad 
hae him think twice or he mells wi' Knockdunder — 
He suld hae a lang-shankit spime that wad sup kail 
wi' the de'il. But they are a' away to their dinner 
to the change-house, and if we dinna mend our pace, 
we'll come short at meal-time." 

David accompanied his friend without answer; but 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 91 

began to feel from experience, that the glen of Knock- 
tarlitie, like the rest of the world, was haunted by its 
own special subjects of regret and discontent. His 
mind was so much occupied by considering the best 
means of converting Duncan of Knock to a sense of 
reverential decency during public worship, that he al- 
together forgot to enquire, whether Butler was called 
upon to subscribe the oaths to government. 

Some have insinuated, that his neglect on this head 
was, in some degree, intentional; but I think this ex- 
planation inconsistent with the simplicity of my friend 
David's character. Neitlier liave I ever been able by 
the most minute enquiries to know whether the /ormit- 
la^ at which lie so much scrupled, had been exacted 
from Butler, aye or no. The books of the kirk-ses- 
sion nfight have thrown some light on this. matter; 
hut unfortunately they were destroyed in the year 
1746, by one Donacha Dhu na Dunaigh, at the in- 
stance, it was said, or at least by the connivance, of 
liie gracious Duncan of Knock, who had a desire to 
obliterate the records of the foibles of a certain Kate 
Finlavson. 



9# 



99 Tales of Mtj Landlord. 



CHAPTER IX. 

Now butt and ben the chang-e-house fills 

Wi' yill-caup commentators, — 

Here's crying out for bakes and ^Us, 

And there the pint-stoup clatters. 

Wi' thick and thrang, and loud and lang, — 

Wi' logic and wi' scripture, 

They raise a din that in the end 

Is like to breed a rupture, 

O' wrath that day. — ^Eurks. 

A PLENTIFUL entertainment, at the Duke of Ar- 
gyle's cost, regaled the reverend gentlemen who had 
assisted at the ordination of Reuben Butler, and al- 
most all the respectable part of the parish. The feast 
was, indeed, such as the country itself furnished ; for 
plenty of all the i*equisites for " a rough and round" 
dinner, were always at Duncan of Knock's command. 
There was the beef and mutton on the braes, the fresh 
and salt-water fish in the lochs, the brooks, and firth ; 
game of every kind, from the deer to the leveret, were 
to be had foi* the killing, in the Duke's forests, moors, 
heaths, and mosses ; and for liquor, home-brewed ale 
flowed as freely as water; brandy and usquebaugh 
both were had in these happy times without duty; 
even white wine and claret were got for nothing, 
since the Duke's extensive rights of admiralty gave 
him a title to all the wine in cask, which is drifted 
ashore on the western coast and isles of Scotland, 
when shipping have suffered by severe weather. In 
short, as Duncan boasted, the entertainment did not 
cost Mac-Callummore a plack out of his sporran, and 
was nevertheless not only liberal, but overflowing. 

The Duke's health was solemnized in a bona fide 
bumper, and David Deans himself added perhaps the 
first huzza that his lungs had ever uttered, to swell 
the shout with which the pledge was received. Nay, 
so exalted in heart was he upon this memorable occa- 
sion, and so much disposed to be indulgent, that he 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. 93 

expressed no dissatisfaction when three bag-pipers 
struck up, ** The Campbells are cominj^." The health 
of the reverend minister of Knocktarlitie was received 
with similar honours; and there was a roar of laugh- 
ter, when one of his brethren slyly subjoined the addi- 
tion of, " A good wife to our brother, to keep the 
Manse in order." On this occasion David Deans was 
deliveretl of his first-born joke; apparently the partu- 
rition was accompanied with many throes, for sorely 
did he twist about his physiognomy, and much did he 
stumble in his speech, before he could express his idea, 
** That the lad being new wedded to his spiritual bride, 
it was hard to threaten him with ane temporal spouse 
in the saam day." He then laughed a hoarse and brief 
laugh, and was suddenly grave and silent, as if abash- 
ed at his own vivacious effort. 

After another toast or two, Jeanie, Mrs Dolly, and 
such of the female natives as had honoured the feast 
with their presence, retii-ed to David's new dwelling 
at Auchingower, and left the gentlemen to their po- 
tations. 

The feast proceeded with great glee. The conver- 
sation, where Duncan had it under his direction, was 
not indeed always strictly canonical, but David Deans 
escaped any risk of being scandalized, by engaging 
with one of his neighbours in a recapitulation of the 
sufferings of Ayrshire and Lanarkshire, during what 
was called the invasion of the Highland Host; the 
prudent Mr Meiklehose cautioning them from time 
to time to lower their voices, for " that Duncan 
Knock's father had been at that onslaught, and brought 
back muckle gude plenishing, and that Duncan was 
no unlikely to hae been there himself, for what he 
kenn'd." 

Meanwhile, as the mirth grew fast and furious, the 
graver members of the party began to escape as well 
as they could. David Deans accomplished his re- 
treat, and Butler anxiously watched an opportimity 
to follow him. Knockd under, however, desirous, he 
said, of knowing what stuff was in the new ministeri 



94 Tales of My Landlord, 

had no intention to part with him so easily, hut kept 
him pinned to his side, watchint^ him sedulously, and 
with ohlii**in,^ violence fillin^^ his i^lass to the brim, so 
often as he could seize an opportunity of doing so. At 
length, as the evening was weai'ing late, a venerable 
brother chanced to ask Mr Archibald when they might 
hope to see the Duke, tarn carum caputf as he would 
venture to term him, at the Lodge of Roseneath. 
Duncan of Knock, whose ideas were somewhat con- 
glomerated, and who, it may be believed, was no 
great scholar, catching up some imperfect sound of 
the words, conceived the speaker was drawing a paral- 
lel between the Duke and Sir Donald Gorme of Sleat^ 
and being of opiidon that such comparison was odious, 
snorted thrice, and prepared himself to be in a pas- 
sion. 

To the explanation of the venerable divine, the Cap- 
tain answered, " I heaKl the word Gorme myself, sir, 
with my ain ears. D'ye think I do not know Gaelic 
from Latin ?" 

" Apparently not, sir;" — so the clergyman, offended 
in his turn, and taking a pinch of snuff, answered with 
great coolness. 

The copper nose of the gracious Duncan now be- 
came heated like the bull of Plialaris, and while Mr 
Archibald mediated betwixt the offended parties, and 
the attention of the company was engaged by their 
dispute, Butler took an opportunity to effect his re- 
ti'eat. 

He found the females at Auchingower, very anxious 
for the breaking up of the convivial party ; for it was a 
part of the ari^angement, that although David Deans 
was to remain at Auchingower, and Butler was that 
night to take possession of the Manse, yet Jeanie, for 
wliom complete accommodations were not yet provided 
in her father's house, was to return for a day or two to 
the Lodge at Roseneath, and the boats had been held 
ill readiness accordingly. They waitied, therefore, 
for Knockdunder's return, but twilight came, and they 
still waited in vain. At length, Mr Archibald, who, as 



The Heart oj Mid-Lothian. 95 

a man of decorum, had taken care not to exceed in his 
conviviality, made his appearance, and advised the 
females stron^^ly to return to the island under his es- 
cort; observing, that from the humour in which he had 
left the Captain, it was a great chance whether he 
budged out of the public-house that night, and it was 
absolutely certain that he would not be very fit com- 
pany for ladies. The gig was at their disposal, he 
said, and there was still pleasant twilight for a party 
on the water. 

Jeanie, who had considerable confidence in Archi- 
bald's prudence, immediately acquiesced in this pro- 
posal ; but Mrs Dolly positively objected to the small 
boat. If tlie big boat could be gotten, she agreed to 
set out, otherwise she would sleep on the floor, rather 
than stir a step. Reason with Dolly was out of the 
question, and Archibald did not think the difliculty so 
pressing as to require compulsion. He observed, it 
was not using the Captain very politely to deprive him 
of his coach and six ; " but as it was in the ladies' ser- 
vice," he gallantly said, " he would use so much free- 
dom — besides the gig would serve the Captain's pur- 
pose better, as it could come off at any hour of the 
tide ; the large boat should, therefore, be at Mrs Dolly's 
sei-vice." 

They walked to the beach accordingly, accompanied 
by Butler. It was scjme time before the boatmen 
could be assembled, and ere they were well embarked, 
and ready to depart, the pale moon was come over the 
hill, and flinging a trembling reflection on the broad 
and glittering waves. But so soft and pleasant was 
the night, that Btitler, in bidding farewell to Jeanie, 
had no apprehension for her safety; and what is yet 
more extraordinary, M!« Dolly felt no alarm for her 
own. The aii' was soft, and came over the cooling 
wave with sometlnng of summer fragrance. The 
beautifid scene of headlands, and capes, and bays, 
around them, with the broad blue chain of mountains, 
were dimly visible in the moonlight; while every dash 



96 Tales of My Landlord. 

of the oars made the waters glance and sparkle witli 
the brilliant phenomenon called the sea-fire. 

This last circumstance filled Jeanie with wonder, 
and served to amuse the mind of her companion, until 
they approached the little bay, which seemed to stretch 
its dark and wooded arms into the sea as if to wel- 
come them. 

The usual landing-place was at a quarter of a mile's 
distance from the Lodge, and although the tide did not 
admit of the large boat coming quite close to the jetty 
of loose stones which served as a pier, Jeanie, who 
was both bold and active, easily sprung ashore; but 
Mrs Dolly positively refusing to commit herself to the 
same risk, the complaisant Mr Arcliibald ordered the 
boat round to a more regular landing-place, at a con- 
siderable distance along the shore. He then prepared 
to land himself, that he might, in the meanwhile, ac- 
company Jeanie to the Lodge. But as there was no 
mistaking the woodland lane, which led from thence 
to the shore, and as the moonlight shewed her one of 
the white chimneys rising out of tlie wood which em- 
bosomed the building, Jeanie declined thisfavjour with 
thanks, and requested him to proceed with Mrs Dolly, 
who being " in a country where the ways were strange 
to her, had mair need of countenance." 

This, indeed, was a fortunate circumstance^ and 
might even be said to save poor Cowslip's life, if it 
was true, as she herself used solemnly to aver, that she 
must positively have expired for fear, if she had been 
left alone in the boat with six wild Highlanders in 
kilts. 

The night was so exquisitely beautiful, that Jeanie, 
instead of immediately directing her course towards 
tlie Lodge, stood looking after the boat as it again put 
ofl' from the side, and rowed out into the little bay, the 
dai'k figures of her companions growing less and less 
distinct as they diminished in the distance, and the 
jorj'am, or melancholy boat-song, of tlie rowers, com- 
ing on the ear with softened and sweeter sound, until 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, ' 97 

the boat rounded the headland^ and was lost to her ob- 
servation. 

Still Jcanie remained in the same posture, looking 
out upon the sea. It would, she was aware, be some 
time ere her com|3anions could reach the Lodge, as the 
distance by the moi'e convenient landing place was con- 
siderably greater than from the point where she stood, 
and she was not sorry to have an opportunity to spend 
the interval by herself. 

The wonderful change which a few weeks had 
wrought in her situation, from sliame and grief, and 
almost despair, to honour, joy, and a fair prospect of 
future happiness, passed before her eyes with a sen- 
sation which brought tlie tears into them. Yet tliey 
flowed at the same time from another source. As hu- 
man happiness is never perfect, and as well construct- 
ed minds are never more sensible of the distresses of 
those whom they love, than when their own situation 
forms a contrast with them, Jeanie's affectionate re- 
grets turned to tlie fate of her poor sister — the child 
of so many hopes — ^tlie fondled mirsling of so many 
years — now an exile, and, what was worse, dependent 
on the will of a man, of whose habits she had every 
reason to entertain the worst opinion, and who, even 
in Ids strongest paroxysms of remorse, had appear- 
ed too much a stranger to the feelings of real peni- 
tence. 

Wliile her thoughts were occupied with these melan- 
choly reflections, a shadowy figure seemed to detach 
itself from the copsewood on her right hand. Jeanie 
started, and the stories of apparitions and wraiths, 
seen by solitary travellers in wild situations, at such 
times, and in such an hour, suddenly came full upon 
her imagination. Tlie figure glided on, and as it came 
betwixt her and the moon, she was aware that it had 
the appearance of a woman. A soft voice twice re- 
peated, " Jeanie — ^Jeanie !" Was it indeed — could it 
be the voice of her sister? — Was she still among the 
living, or had the grave given up its tenant? — Ere she 
could state these questions to her own mind, Eflie, 



98 Tales of My Landlord, 

alive, and in the body, had clasped lier in her arms, 
and was straining her to her bosom, and devouiing her 
with kisses. ** I have wandered here," she said, ** like 
a ghaist, to see you, and nae wonder you take me for 
ane — I thought but to see you gang ])y, or to hear the 
sound of your voice; but to speak to yoursell again, 
Jeanie, was mair than I deserved, and mair than I 
durst pray for." 

** O Effie ! how came ye here alone, and at this hour, 
and on the wild sea-beach ? Are you surelits your ain 
living sell?" 

There was something of Effie's former humour in 
her practically answering the question by a gentle 
pinch, more beseeming the fingei's of a fairy than of a 
ghost. And again the sisters embraced, and laughed 
and wept by turns. 

« But ye maun gang up wi' me to the Lodge, Effie," 
said Jeanie, " and tell me a' yt)ur story — I hae gude 
folk there that will make ye welcome for my sake." 

<* Na, na, Jeanie," replied her sister sorrowfully, — 
*< ye liae foi'gotten what 1 am — a banished outlawed 
body, scarce escaped the gallows by your being the 
bauldest and the best sister that ever lived — I'll gae 
near nane o' your grand friends, if tliere was nae 
danger to me." 

« There is nae danger — there shall be nae danger," 
said Jeanie eagerly. *• O Effie, dinna be wilfu' — be 
guided for anes — we will be sae happy a'thegither !" 

" I have a' the happiness I deserve on this side of 
the grave, now tliat I hae seen you," answered Effie ; 
*' and whether tliere were danger to mysell or no, nae- 
body shall ever say that I come with my cheat-the- 
gallows face to shame my sister amang her grand 
iriends." 

"I S»ae nae grand friends," said Jeanie; "nae friends 
but what are friends of yours — Reuben Butler and my 
father. O, uiihappy lassie, dinna be dour, and tui'ii 
your back on your happiness a/vain ! We w unna see 
another acquaintance — Come hame to us, your ain 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 99 

dearest Mends — it's better sheltering under an auld 
Jiedge than under a new planted wood." 

<* It's in vain speaking, Jeanie — I maun drink as I 
hae brewed ; I am married, and I maun follow my hus- 
band, for better for worse." 

" Married, Effie !" exclaimed Jeanie — <* Misfortu- 
nate creature ! and to that awfu' " 

<* Hush, husli," said Effie, clapping one hand on hep 
mouth, and pointing to the thicket with the other, " he 
is yonder." 

She said this in a tone which shewed that her hus- 
band liad found means to inspire her with awe, as 
well as affection. At this moment a man issued from 
the wood. 

It was young Staunton. Even by the imperfect 
light of the moon, Jeanie could observe tliat he was 
handsomely dre.ssed, and had the air of a person of 
rank. 

<* Effie," he said, <♦ our time is well nigh spent — 
the skiff will be aground in the creek, and I dare not 
stay longer — I hope your sister will allow me to salute 
lier." But Jeanie slirunk back from him with a feel- 
ing of internal abhorrence. " Well," said he, " it 
does not much signify ; if you keep up the feeling of ill- 
will, at least you do not act upon it, and I thank you 
for your respect to my secret, when a word (which in 
your place I would have spoken at once) would have 
cost me my life. People say, you should keep from 
the wife of your bosom the secret that concerns your 
neck — my wife and her sister both know mine, and I 
shall not sleep a wink less sound." 

"But are you really married to my sister, sir?" 
asked Jeanie, in ^reat doubt and anxiety; for the 
hauglity careless tone in which he spoke seemed to 
justify her worst apprehensions. 

^ " I really am legally married, and by my own 
name," replied Staunton, more gravely. 

" And your father — and your friends ? — " 

^< And my father and my friends must just reconcile 
themselves to that which is done and cannot be iin- 

VOIi. IV. 10 



IQO Tales of My Landlord* 

done/' replied Staunton. ^* However, it is my inten- 
tion, in order to break off dangerous connections, and 
to let my friends come to their temper, to conceal my 
marriag-e for tlie present, and stay abroad for some 
years. So that you will not hear of us for some time, 
if ever you hear of us again at all. It would be dan- 
gerous, you must be aware, to keep up the correspond- 
ence, for all would guess that the husband of Effie was 
the — what shall I call myself? — the slayer of Por- 
teous." 

-- Hard-hearted ligiit man ! thought Jeanie — to what 
a character she has intrusted her happiness! — She 
has sown the wind, and maun reap the whirlwind. 

*^ Dinna think ill o' him," said Effie, breaking away 
from her husband, and leading Jeanie a step or two 
out of hearing — " dinna think very ill o' him — he's 
gude to me, Jeanie — as gude as 1 deseiwe — And he 
is determined to gie up his bad courses. — Sae, after 
a', dinna greet for Effie; she is better off than she has 
wrought for. — But you — O you! — how can you be 
happy eneugh ? — never till ye get to Heaven, whei^ 
a' body is as gude as yoursel.— Jeanie, if I live and 
thrive, ye shall hear of me — if not, just forget sic a 
creature ever lived to vex ye — ^fare ye weel — fare — 
fare ye weel!" 

She tore herself from her sister's arms, rejoined her 
husband — they plunged into the copsewood, and she 
saw them no more. The whole scene had the effect of 
a vision, and she could almost have believed it such, 
but that, very soon after they quitted her, she heard 
the sound of oars, and a skiff was seen on the Firth, 
pulling swiftly towards the small smuggling sloop 
which lay in the offing. It was on board of such a 
Vessel that Effie had embarked at Portobello, and 
Jeanie had no doubt that the same conveyance was 
destined, as Staunton liad hinted, to transport theni 
to a foreign country. 

Although it was impossible to determine whether 
tills interview, while it was passing, gave more pain 
er pleasure to Jeanie Deans, yet the ultimate impres- 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 101 

sioii which remained on her mind was decidedly fa- 
vourable. Effie was married — made, according* to 
tlie common phrase, an honest woman — that was one 
main point; it seemed also as if her husband were 
about to abandon the path of gross vice, in which he 
had run so long and so desperately — that was another; 
for his final and oifectual conversion, lie did not want 
understanding:, and God knew his own hour. 

Such were the thoughts with which Jeanie endea- 
voured to console her anxiety respecting her sister's 
future fortune. On iier aiTival at the Lodge, she found 
Arcliibakl in some anxiety at her stay, and about to 
walk out in quest of her. A headache served as an 
apology for retiring to rest, in order to conceal her 
visible agitation of mind from her companions. 

By this secession also, siie escaped another scene of 
a different sort. For as if there were danger in all 
gigs, whether by sea or land, that of Knockdunder 
had been run down by another boat, an accident owing 
chiefly to the drunkenness of the captain, his crew, 
and passengers. Knockdunder, and two or t[n*ee 
guests, whom he was bruiging along witli him to fin- 
ish the conviviality of the evening at the Lodge, got a 
sound ducking, but, being rescued by the crew of the 
boat whicli endangered tliem, there was no ultimate 
loss, excepting that of the captain's laced hat, which, 
greatly to the satisfaction of the Highland part of the 
district, as well as to the improvement of the confor- 
mity of his own personal apjiearance, he replaced by 
a smart Highland bonnet next day. Many were i\\c 
vehement threats of vengeance which, on tlie succeed- 
ing morning, tiie gracious Duncan threw out against 
the boat which had upset him ; but as neither she, nor 
tlie small smuggling vessel to which she belonged, was 
any longer to be seen in the Firth, he was compelled 
to sit down with the affront. This was the more hard, 
he said, as lie was assured the mischief was done on 
purpose, these scoundrels having lurked about after 
they had landed evciy drop of brandy, and every bag 
of tea they had on board ; and he understood the cox- 



102 Tales of Mtj Landlord, 

swain had been on shore, making particular enquiries 
concerning the time wlien his boat was to cross over, 
and to return, and so forth. 

<• Put the neist time they meet me on the Firth," 
said Duncan, with great majesty, " I will teach the 
moonlight rapscallions and vagabonds to keep their 
ain side of tlie road^ and be tamnM to them/^ 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 10? 



CHAPTER X. 

Lord ! who would live turaioiled in a court, 
Aud may enjoy such quiet walks as thfese ? 

Shakspeahe. 



Within a reasonable time after Butler was safely 
and comfortably settled in his living, and Jeanie had 
taken up her abode at Auchingovver with her father, 
the precise extent of which interval we request each 
reader to settle according to his own sense of what is 
decent and proper upon the occasion; and after due 
proclamation of banns, and all other formalities, the 
1< ng wooing of this wortliy pair was ended by tlieir 
imioii in the holy bands of matrimony. On this occa- 
sion, David Deans stoutly withstood tlic iniquities of 
pipes, fiddles, and promiscuous dancing, to the great 
wrath of the Captain of Knockdunder, who said, if 
he " had guessed it was to be sic a tamned Quakers' 
meeting, he wad kae seen them peyont the cairn before 
he wad hae darkened their doors." 

And so much rancour remained on the spirits of the 
gracious Duncan upon this occasioil, that various " pic- 
queerings," as David called them, took place upon the 
same and similar topics ; and it was only in conse- 
quence of an accidental visit of the Duke to his Lodge 
at Roseneath, tliatthey were put a stop to. But upon 
that occasion his Grace shewed such particular respect 
to Mr and Mrs Butler, and such favour even to old 
David, that Knockdunder held it prudent to change 
his course towards the latter. He, in future, used to 
express himself among friends, concerning tlie minister 
and his wife, as " very worthy decent folk, just a little 
over strict in their notions ; put it was pest for thae 
plack cattle to err on the safe siile." And respecting 
David, he allowed that "he was an excellent judge of 
nowte and sheep, and a sensible an.: ugh carle, an' it 
wercna for Ms tamned Caiiicroniau nonsense, whilk 
10* 



104 Tales of My Landlord, 

it is not worth while of a shentleman to knock out of 
an auld silly head, either by force of reason, or other- 
wise." So that, by avoiding' topics of dispute, tlie 
personages of our tale lived in great good habits 
witli the gracious Duncan, only tliat he still grieved 
David's soul, 'and set a perilous example to the con- 
gregation, by sometimes bringing his pipe to the 
church during a cold winter-day, and almost always 
sleeping during sermon in the summer-time. 

Mrs Butler, whom we must no longer, if we can 
help it, term by the familiar name of Jeanie, brougbt 
into the married state the same firm mind and affec- 
tionate disposition, — ^the same natural and homely 
good sense, and spirit of useful exertion, — in a word, 
all tlie domestic good qualities of which she had given 
proof during her maiden life. She did not indeed rival 
Butler in learning; but then no woman more devoutly 
venerated the extent of her husband's erudition. She 
did not pretend to understand his expositions of divi- 
nity; but no minister of the presbytery had his hum- 
ble dinner so well arranged, his clothes and linen in 
equal good order, his fireside so neatly swept, his par- 
lour so clean, and his books so well dusted. 
, If he talked to Jeanie of what she did not under- 
stand, — and (for the man was mortal, and had been 
a schoolmaster,) he sometimes did harangue more 
{Scholarly and wisely than was necessary, — she listen- 
ed in placid silence; and whenever the point referred 
to common life, and was such as came imder the grasp 
of a strong iratuml understanding, her views were 
more forcible, and her observations more acute, than 
his own. In acquii'cd politeness of manners, when it 
happened that she mingled a little in society, Mrs But- 
ler was, of course, judged deficient. . But then she 
had that obvious wish to oblige, that real and natural 
good-breeding which dei)ends on good sense and good 
humour, to which she joined a considerable degree of 
archness and liveliness of manner, so that her beha- 
viour was acceptable to all with whom she was called 
upon to associate. Notwithstanding her stiict atten- 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. 105 

tion to all domestic affairs, she always appeared the 
real rlean well-dressed mistress of the house, never 
t]ie sordid household drudge. When complimented on 
tliis occasion by Duncan Knock, who swore "that 
lie thought the faries must help her, since her house 
was always clean, and nobody ever saw any body 
sweeping it," she modestly replied, "That much 
might be dune by timing ane's turns." 

Duncan replied, " He heartily wished she could 
teach that art to the huzzies at the Lodge, for he could 
never discover that the house was washed at a', except 
now^ and then by breaking his sliins over the pail — Cot 
tamn the jauds!" 

Of lesser matters there is not occasion to speak 
much. It may easily be believed that the Duke's 
cheese w as carefully made . and so graciously accept- 
ed, that the offering became annual. Remembrances 
and acknowledgments of past favours were sent to Mrs 
Bickerton and Mrs Glass, and ari amicable intercourse 
maintained from time to time with these two respecta^ 
ble and benevolent persons. 

It is especially necessary to mention, that in the 
course of five years, Mrs Butler had three children, 
two boys and a girl, all stout healthy babes of grace, 
fair-haired, blue- eyed, and strong-limbed. The boys 
were named David and Reuben, an order of nomen- 
clature which waa much to the satisfaction of the old 
hero of the Covenant, and the girl, by her mothei^s 
special desire, was christened Euphemia, rather con- 
trary to the \vish both of her father and husband, who 
nevertheless loved Mrs Butler too well, and were too 
much indebted to her for their hours of happiness, to 
withstand any request which she made with earnest- 
ness, and as a gratification to herself. But from some 
feeling, I know not of what kind, the child was never 
distinguished by the name of jEffie, but by the abbre- 
viation of Femie, which in Scotland is equally com- 
monly applied to persons called Euphemia. 

In this state of quiet and unostentatious enjoyment, 
there were, besides the ordinary rubs and ruffles w hich 



106 Tales of My Landlord, 

disturb even the most uniform life, two thinp;s which 
pai'ticularly chequered Mrs Butler's happiness. — 
" Without these," she said to oui* informer, ** her life 
would have been but too happy; and perhaps," she 
added, " she had need of some crosses in this world 
to remind her that there was a better to come behind 
it." 

The first of these related to certain polemical skir- 
mishes betwixt her father and her husband, which, 
notwithstanding the mutual respect and affection they 
entertained foi* each other, and their great love for her, 
— notwithstanding also their general agreement in 
strictness, and even severity of Presbyterian princi- 
ple, — often threatened unpleasant weather between 
them. David Deans, as our i*eaders must be aware, 
was sufficiently opinionati ,'C and inti'actable, and hav- 
ing prevailed on himself to become a member of a kirk- 
session under the established church, he felt doubly 
obliged to evince, that in so doing, he liad not com- 
promised any whit of his former professicms, either in 
practice or principle. Now Mr Butler, doing all cre- 
dit to his father-in-law's motives, was frequently of 
opinion that it were better to drop out of memory points 
of division and separation, and to act in the manner 
most likely to attract and unite all parties who wxre 
sei'ious in religion. Moreover, he was not pleased, 
as. a man and a scholar, to be always dictated to by 
his unlettered father-in-law ; and as a clergyman, he 
did not think it lit to seem for ever under tlie thumb of 
an elder of his own kirk-session. A proud but honest 
tliought carried his opposition now and then a little 
faither than it would otherwise have gone. *•' My 
brethren," he said, " will suppose I am flattering and 
conciliating the old man for the sake of his succession, 
if I defer and give way to him on every occasion; and, 
besides, there are many on which 1 neither can nor 
will conscientiously yield to his notions. I cannot be 
persecuting old women for witches, or ferretting out 
matter of scandal among the young ones, which might 
otherwise have remained concealed.'^ 



The Heart of Mid-Lotlmn. 107 

From tliis difference of opinion it happened, tliat in 
many cases of nicety, such as in owning certain de- 
fections, and failing to testify against certain back-- 
slidings of the time, in not always severely tracing 
forth little matters of scandal and/ama clamosa, which 
David called a loosening of the I'eins of discipline, 
and in failing to demand clear testimonies in other 
points of controversy which had, as it were, drifted to 
leeward with the change of times, Butler incurred the 
censure of his father-in-law; and sometimes the dis- 
putes betwixt them turned eager and almost unfriend- 
ly. In all such cases Mrs Butler was a mediating 
spirit, who endeavoured, by the alkaline smoothness 
of her own disposition, to neutralize the acidity of theo- 
logical controversy. To the complaints of both she 
lent an unprejudiced and attentive ear, and sought al- 
ways rather to excuse than absolutely to defend the 
other party. 

She reminded her father that Butler had not <^his 
experi^ence of the auld and wrastling times, when folk 
were gifted wi' a far look into eternity, to make up for 
the oppressions whilk they suffered here below in time. 
She freely allowed that many devout ministers and 
professors in times past had enjoyed downright reve- 
lation, like the blessed Peden, and Lundie, and Came- 
ron, and Renwick, and John Caird the tinkler, wha 
entered into the secrets, and Elizabeth Melvill, Lady 
Culross, wha prayed in her bed, surrounded by a great 
many Christians in a large bed, on whilk it was placed 
on purpose, and that for three hours' time, with won- 
derful assistance; and Lady Robertland, whilk got sic 
sure outgates of grace, and mony other in times past ; 
and of a specialty, Mr John Scrimgeour, minister of 
Kinghorn, who having a beloved child sick to death of 
the crewels, was free to expostulate with his Maker 
with such impatience of displeasure, and complaining 
so bitterly, that at length it was said unto him, that he 
tvas heard for this time, but that he was requested to 
use no such boldness in time coming ; so that w hen he 
returned he found the child sitting up in the bed hale 



108 Tales of My Landlord, 

and fair, with all its wounds closed, and supping its 
parritch, whilk babe lie had left at the time of death. 
But though these things might be time in these needful 
times, she contended that those ministers who had not 
seen such vouchsafed and especial mercies, were to 
seek their rule in the records of ancient times ; and 
therefore Reuben was carefu' both to search the Scrip- 
tures and the books written by wise and good men of 
old ; and sometimes in this way it wad happen that 
twa precious saints might pu' sundry wise, like twa 
cows riving at the same hay-band." 

To this David used to reply, with a sigh, "All, 
hiniiy, thou kenn'st little o't; but that saam John 
Scrimgeour, that blew open the gates of heaven as an 
it had been wi' a sax-pund cannon-ball, used devoutly 
to wish that most part of books were burned except the 
Bible. Reuben's a gude lad and a kind — I have aye 
allowed that; but as to his not allowing enquiry anent 
the scandal of Margery Kittlesides and Rory Mac- 
Rand, under pretence that they have southered sin wi' 
marriage, it's clear again the Christian discipline o' 
the kirk. And then there's Aily Mac-Clure of Deep- 
heugh, that practises her abominations, spacing folks' 
fortunes wi' egg-shells and mutton-banes, and dreams 
and divinations, whilk is a scandal to ony Christian 
land to suffer sic a wretch to live; and I'll uphaudthat 
in a' judicatures, civil or ecclesiastical." 

<* I dai'-e say ye are very right, father," was the ge- 
neral style of Jeanic's answer ; <* but ye maun come 
down to the Manse to your dinner the day. The bits 
o' bairns, puir things, "are wearying to see their luckie- 
dad ; and Reuben never sieeps weel, nor I neither, 
w hen you and iie hae had ony bit outcast." 

"Nae outcast, Jeanie; God forbid I suld cast out 
wi' thee, or auglit tliat is dear to thee." And he put 
on his Sunday's coat, and came to the Manse accgrd- 
ingly. 

With her husband, Mrs Butler had a more direct 
conciliatory process, llesihen had the utmost respect 
for the old man's motives, and affection for his person, 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. i 09 

as well as gratitude for his early friendship. So that, 
upon any such occasion of accidental fnitation, it was 
only necessary to reniind him with delicacy of his 
father-in-law's age, of his scanty education, sti'ong 
prejudices, and family distresses. The least of these 
considerations always inclined Butler to measures of 
conciliation, in so far as he could accede to them with- 
out compromising principle ; and thus our simple and 
unpretending heroine had the merit of those peace- 
makers, to whom it is pronounced as a benediction, 
that they shall inherit the earth. 

The second crook in Mrs Butler's lot, to use the 
language of her father, was tlie distressing circum- 
stance, that slie had never heard of her sister's safety, 
or of the circumstances in which she found herself, 
though betwixt four and five years had elapsed since 
they had parted on tlie beach of the island of Rose- 
neath. Frequent intercourse was not to he expected 
— not to be desired, perhaps, in tlieir relative situa- 
tions; but Effie had promised, that, if she lived and 
prospered, her sister sbould hear from her. She must 
then be no more, or sunk into some abyss of misery, 
since she had never redeemed her pledge. Her silence 
seemed strange and portentous, and wrung from Jea- 
nie, who could never forget the early years of their 
intimacy, the most painful anticipation concerning her 
fate. At length, however, the veil was drawn aside. 

One day, as the Captain of Knockdunder had call- 
ed in at tiie Manse, on his return from some business 
in tlie Highland part of the parish, and had been ac- 
commodated, according to his special request, with a 
mixture of milk, braridy, honey, and water, which he 
said Mrs Butler compounded " j)etter than ever a 
woman in Scotland," — for, in all innoceiit matters, 
she studied the taste of every one around her, — he said 
to Butler, * Py the pye, minister, I have a letter here 
either for your caniiy pody of a wife or you, which I 
got when I was last at Glasco ; the postage comes to 
fourpence, which you may either pay me forthwith, 
or give me tooble or quitts in a hitt at pack-cammon. 



110 Taleg of My Landlord, 

The playing at back-gammoii and drauglits liad 
been a frequent amusement of Mr Whackbair'n, But- 
ler's principal, when at Libberton school. The mi- 
nister, therefore, still piqued himself on his skill at 
both games, and occasionally practised them, as strict- 
ly canonical, although David Deans, whose notions of 
every kind were more rigorous, used to shake his head, 
and groan grievously, when he espied the tables lying in 
the parlour, or the children playing with the dice-boxes 
or back-gammon men. Indeed Mrs Butler was some- 
times chidden for removing these implements of pas- 
time into some closet or corner out of sight. '* Let 
them be where they are, Jeanie," would Butler say 
upon such occasions; "I am not conscious of follow- 
ing this, or any other trifling relaxation, to the inter- 
ruption of my more serious studies, and still more 
serious duties. I will not, therefore, have it supposed, 
that I am indulging by stealth, and against my con- 
science, in an amusement which, using it so little as 
I do, I may well practise ojjenly, and without any 
check of mind — J\*il conscire sibiy Jeanie, that is my 
motto ; which signifies, my love, the honest and open 
confidence which a man ought to entertain, when he is 
acting openly, and without any sense of doing wrong." 

Such being Butler's humour, he accepted the Cap- 
tain's defiance to a twopenny-hit at back-gammon, and 
handed the letter to his wife, observing, the post-mark 
was York, but, if it came from her friend Mrs Bick- 
erton, she had considerably improved her hand-writ- 
ing, which was uncommon for her years. 

Leaving the gentlemen to their game, Mrs. Butler 
went to order something for supper, for captain Dun- 
can had proposed kindly to stay the night with them, 
and then carelessly broke open her letter. It was not 
from Mrs. Bickerton, and, after glancing over the 
first few lines, she soon found it necessary to retire 
into her own bed-room, to read the document at lei- 
sure. 



Tine Heart of Mid-Lothian. Ill 



CHAPTER XI. 



Happy tliou art ! then happy be. 

Nor envy me my lot ; 
Thy happy state I envy thee. 

And peaceful cot. 

AxOIfTMOTS. 

The letter, which Mrs. Butler, when retired into 
her own apartment, perused with anxious wonder, 
was certainly from Effie, although it had no other sig- 
nature than the letter E. ; and although the ortho- 
graphy, style, and penmanship, were very far supe- 
rior not only to any thing which Effie could produce, 
who, though a lively girl, had been a remarkably 
careless scholar, but even to her more considerate sis- 
ters's own powers of composition and expression. The 
manuscript was a fair Italian hand, though something 
stiff and constrained — the spelling and the diction that 
of a person who had been accustomed to read good 
compositions and mix in good society. 

The tenor of the letter was as follows ; 

«Mt Dearest Sister, 

« At many risks I venture to write to you, to in- 
form you that I am still alive, and, as to worldly si- 
tuation, that I rank higher than I could expect or me- 
rit. If wealth, and distinction, and an honourable 
rank, could make a woman happy, I have them all ; 
but you, Jeanie, whom the world might think placed 
far beneath me in all these respects, are far happier 
than 1 am. I have had means of hearing of your 
welfare, my dearest Jeanie, from time to time — I think 
I should have broken my heart otherwise. I have 
learned with great pleasure of your increasing family. 
We have not been worthy of such a blessing ; two in- 
fants have been successively removed, and we are 
now childless — God's will be done. But, if we had t^ 

VOL. IV. 11 

I 



112 Tales of Mtj Landlord. 

child, it would perhaps divert him from the gloomy 
thoughts which make liim terrible to himself and 
others. Yet do not let me frighten you, Jeanie; he 
continues to be kind, and I am far better off than I 
deserve. You will wonder at my better scholarship ; 
but when I was abroad, I had the best teachers, and I 
worked hard because my progress pleased him. He 
is kind, Jeanie, only he has much to distress him, es- 
pecially when he looks backward. When I look back- 
ward myself, I have always a ray of comfort ; it is in 
the generous conduct of a sister, who forsook mc 
not when I was forsaken by every one. You have 
had your reward. You live happy in the esteem 
and love of all who know you, and I drag on the 
life of a miserable impostor, indebted for the marks 
of regard I receive to a tissue of deceit and lies, 
which the slightest accident may unravel. He has 
produced me to his friends, since the estate oi)ened to 
him, as the daughter of a Scotchman of rank, ba- 
nished on account of the viscount of Dundee's wars — 
that is, our Fr.'s old friend Clavers, you know — and 
he says I was educated in a Scotch convent ; indeed 
I lived in such a place long enough to enable me to 
support the character. But when a countryman ap- 
proaches me, and begins to talk, as they all do, of the 
various families engaged in Dundee's affair, and to 
make enquiries into my connections, and when I see 
his eye bent on mine with such an expression of ago- 
ny, my terror brings me to the very risk of detection. 
Good-nature and politeness have hitherto saved me, 
as they prevented people from pressing on me with 
distressing questions. But how long — O how long, 
will this be the case ! — And if 1 bring this disgrace on 
him, he will hate me — he will kill me, for as much jgis 
he loves me ; he is as jealous of his family honour 
now, as ever he was careless about it. I have been in 
England four months, and have often thought of 
writing to you ; and yet, such are the dangers that 
might arise from an intercepted letter, that I have hi- 
therto forborne. But now 1 am obliged to run the 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 1 13 

risk. Last week I saw your great friend, the D. of 
A. He came to my box, and sate by me ; and some- 
thing in the play put him in mind of you — Gracious 
Heaven ! he told over your whole London journey to 
all who were in the box, but particularly to the wretch- 
ed creature who was tlie occasion of it all. If he had 
known — if he could have conceived, beside whom he 
was sitting, and to whom the story was told ! — I suf- 
fered with courage, like an Indian at the stake, while 
they are rending his fibres and boring his eyes, and 
while he smiles apjdause at each well-imagined contri- 
vance of his torturers. It was too much for me at last, 
Jeanie — I fainted ; and my agony was imputed partly 
to the heat of the place, and partly to my extreme 
sensibility; and, hyjiocrite all over, I encouraged 
both opinions — any thing but discovery. Luckily he 
was not there. But the incident has led to more 
alarms. I am obliged to meet your great man often ; 
and he seldom sees me without talking of E. D. and 
J. D., and R. B. and D. D., as persons in whom my 
amiable sensibility is interested. My amiable sensi- 
bility ! ! ! — And then the cruel tone of light indiffer- 
ence with which persons in the fashionable world 
speak together on the most affecting subjects ! To 
hear my guilt, my folly, my agony, the foibles and 
weaknesses of my friends — even your heroic exer- 
tions, Jeanie, spoken of in the drolling style which is 
the present tone in fashionable life — Scarce all that I 
formerly endured is equal to this state of irritation — 
then it was blows and stabs — now it is pricking to 
death with needles and pins. — He — I mean the D. — 
goes down next month to spend the sliooting-season in 
Scotland — he says, he makes a point of always dining 
one day at the manse — be on your guard, and do not 
betray yourself, should he mention me — Yourself, 
alas ! ijoiu have nothing to betray — nothing to fear — 
It is E. whose life is once more in your hands — it is 
E. w honi you are to save from being plucked of her 
borrowed plumes, discovered, branded, and trodden 
down, first by him, perhaps, who has raised her to this 



1 14 Tales of My Landlord. 

dizzy pinnade ! — The inclosure will reach you twice 
a-year — do not refuse it — it is out of my own allow- 
ance, and may be twice as much when you want it. 
With you it may do good — with me it never can. 

*« Write to me soon, Jeanie, or I shall remain in 
the agonizing apprehension that this has fallen into 
wrong hands — Address simply to L. S. under cover, 
to the reverend George Wliiterose, in the Minster- 
Close, York. He thinks I correspond with some of 
my noble jaco')ite relations who are in Scotland. 
How high-church and jacobitical zeal would burn in 
his checks, if he knew he was the agent, not of Eu- 
pheraia Setoun, of the honourable house of Winton, 
but of E. D., daughter of a Cameronian cow-feeder? 
— Jeanie, lean laugh yet sometimes — but God protect 
you from such mirth. — My father — I mean your fa- 
ther, w^ould say it was like the idle crackling of 
thorns; but the thorns keep their poignancy, they 
remain unconsumed. — Farewell, my dearest Jeanie — 
Do not show this even to Mr. Butler, much less to any 
one else — I have every respect for him, but his princi-, 
pies are over strict, and my case will not endure se- 
vere handling.-— I rest your affectionate sister, E." 

In this long letter there was much to surprise as 
well as to distress Mrs. Butler. That Effie — her sister 
Effie, sliould be mingling freely in society, and appa- 
rently on not unequal terms, with the duke of Argyle, 
sounded like something so extraordinary, that she 
even doubted if she read truly. Nor was it less mar- 
vellous, that, in the space of four years, her education 
should have made such progress. Jeanie's humility 
readily allowed that Effie had always, when she chose 
it, been smarter at her book than she herself was, but 
then she was very idle, and, upon the whole, had 
made much less proficiency. Love, or fear, or neces- 
sity, however, had proved an able school-mistress, and 
completely supplied nil her deficiencies. 

What Jeanie least liked in the tone of the letter was 
a smothered degree of egotism. « We should have 



I 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 115 

heard little about lier," said Jeanie to herself, *< but 
that she was feared the duke mi^^lit conic to learn wha 
she was, and a' about her puir friends here; but Ethe, 
puir thing, aye looks her ain way, and folks that do 
that think mair o' themselves tban of their neighbours. 
— I am no clear about keeping her siller," she added, 
taking up a 501. note which had fallen out of the paper 
to the floor. << ^ye 4me aneugh, and it looks unco like 
theft-boot, or hush-money, as they ca' it ; she might 
hae been sure that I wad sae naething wad Iiarm her, 
for a' tlie gowd in Lunnon. And I maun tell the 
minister about it. I dinna see that she suld be sae 
feared for her ain bonnie bargain of a gudeman, and 
that I shouldna reverence Mr. Butler just as much; 
and sae I'll e'en tell hiin, when that tippling body the 
captain has ta*en boat in the morning. But I won- 
der at my ain state of mind,'' she added, turning back, 
after she had made a step or two to the door to join 
the gentlemen ; *« surely I am no sic a fule as to be 
angry tirat ElHc's a braw lady, while I am only a 
minister's wife ?" — and yet I am as petted as a bairn, 
when 1 sliould bless God, that has i*edeemed her from 
shame, and poveity, and guilt, as ower likely she niiglit 
hae been plunged into." 

Sitting down upon a stool at the foot of the bed, she 
folded her arms upon her bosom, saying within her- 
self, « Fi'om this place will I not rise till 1 am in a 
better frame of mind; and so placed, by dint of tear- 
ing the veil from the motives of her little temporary 
spleen against her sister, she compelled herself to be 
ashamed of them, and to view as blessings the advan- 
tages of her sister's lot, wliile its embarrassments were 
the necessary consequences of errors long since com- 
mitted. And thus she fairly vanquished the feeling of 
pique which she naturally enough entertained, at see- 
ing Efiie, so long the object of her care and her pity, 
soar suddenly so high above her in life, as to reckon 
amongst the chief objects of her apprehension the risk 
of their relationship being discovered. 

When this unwonted burst of amour propre was th^o- 
11=^ 



116 Tales of Mtj Landlord, 

roughly subdued, she walked down to the litdc par- 
lour where the gentlemen where finishing their game, 
and heard from the captain a confirmation of the news 
intimated in her letter, that the duke of Argyle was 
shortly expected at Roseneath. 

" He/11 find plenty of moor-fowls and plack-cock on 
the moors of Auchingower, and he'll pe nae doubt for 
taking a late dinner, and a ped at the manse, as he 
has done before now." 

« He has a gude right, captain, said Jeanie. 

*< Teil ane better to ony ped in the kintra," answer- 
ed the captain. « And ye had petter tell your father, 
puir pody, to get his beasts a' in order, and put his 
tamned Cameronian nonsense^ out o* his head for twa 
or three days, if he can be so opliging ; for fan I 
s.peak to him apout prute pestial, he answers me out 
o' the Pible, whilk is not using ashentleman weel, un- 
less it pe a person of your clath, Mr. Putler." 

No one understood better than Jeanie the merit of 
the soft answer, which turneth away wrath ; and she 
only smiled, and hoped that his grace would find eve- 
ry thing that was under her father's care to his entire 
satisfaction. 

But the captain, who had lost the whole postage of 
the letter at back-gammon, was in the pouting mood 
not unusual to losers, and which, says the proverb, 
must be allowed to them. 

•^And, master Putlcr, though you know I never 
meddle with the things of your kirk-sessions, yet I 
must pe allowed to say that 1 will not be pleased to 
allow Ailie MacClure of Deephaugh to pe poonished 
as a witch, in respect she only spaes fortunes, and 
does not lame, or plind, or pedevil any pei'sons, or 
coup cadgers' carts, or ony sort of mischief^ but only 
tells people good fortunes, as anent our poats killing 
so many seals and doug-fishes, whilk is very pleasant 
to hear." 

"The woman," said Butler, "is, I believe, no 
witch, but a cheats and it is only on that head that 
she is summoned to the kirk-scssion, to cause her to 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 117 

desist in future from practising her impostures upon 
ignorant persons." 

•« I do not know," replied the gracious Runcan, 
*« what her practices or her postures are, hut I pe- 
lieve that if the poys take hould on lier to duck her in 
the Clachanpurn, it will be a very sorry practice — 
and I pelieve, moreover, that if I come in thirdsman 
among you at the kirk-sessions, you will pe all in a 
tamn'd bad posture indeed. »' 

Without noticing this threat, Mr. Butler replied, 
^« That he had not attended to the risk of ill usage 
which the poor woman might undergo at the bauds of 
the rabble, and that he would give her the necessary 
admonition in private, instead of bringing her before 
the assembled session." 

<« This," Duncan said, "was speaking like a rea- 
sonable shentleman;" and so the evening passed 
peaceably off. 

Next morning, after the captain had swallowed his 
morning draught of Athole brose, and departed in his 
coach and six, Mrs. Butler anew deliberated upon 
communicating to her husband her sister's letter. — . 
But she was deterred by the recollection, that in doing 
so she would unveil to him tlie whole of a dreadful se- 
cret, of which, perhaps, his public character might 
render him an unfit depositary. Butler already had 
reason to believe that Efiie had eloped witli that same 
Robertson who had been a leader in t!ie Porteous mob, 
and who lay under sentence of death for the robbery 
at Kirkaldy. But he did not know his identity with 
George Staunton, a man of birth and fortune, who 
had now apparently re-assumed his natural rank in 
society. Jeanie had respected Staunton's own con- 
fession as sacred, and upon reflection, she considered 
the letter of her sister as equally so, and resolved to 
mention the contents to no one. 

On re-perusing the letter, she could not help ob- 
serving the staggering and unsatisfactory condition of 
those who have risen to distinction by undue paths, 



113 Tales of My Landlord. 

and tlic outworks and bulwarks of fiction and falsc- 
liood, by whicb they are under the necessity of sur- 
rounding and defending their precarious advantages. 
But she was not called upon, slie thought, to unveil 
her sister's original liistoi'y — it would restore no right 
to any one, for she was usurping none — it would only 
destroy her happiness, and degrade her in the public 
estimation. Had she been wise, Jeanie thouglit she 
would have chosen seclusion and privacy, in place of 
public life and gaiety ; but the power of choice miglit 
not be her*s. The njoney she thought could not be re- 
turned without seeming haughty and unkind. She re- 
solved, therefore, upon re-considering this point, to 
employ it as occasion should serve, either in educating 
her children better than her own means could com- 
pass, or for their future portion. Her sister liad 
enough, was strongly bound to assist Jeanie by any 
means in her power, and the arrangement was so na- 
tural and proper, that it ought not to be declined out 
of fastidious or romantic delicacy. Jeanie according- 
ly wrote to her sister, acknowledging her letter, and 
requesting to hear from her as often as she could. In 
entering into her own little details of news, chiefly re- 
specting domestic affairs, she experienced a singular 
vacillation of ideas ; for sometimes she apologized 
for mentioning things unwoi'lhy the notice of a lady 
of rank, and tlien recollected that every thing which 
concerned her should be interesting to Effie. Her let- 
ter, under the cover of Mr. Whiterose, she committed 
to the post-office at Glasgow, by the intervention of a 
parishioner who had business at that city. 

The next week brouglitthe duke to Roseneath, and 
shortly afterwards he intimated his intention of sport- 
ing in their neighbourliood, and taking his bed at the 
manse, an honour which he had once or twice done 
to its inmates on former occasions. 

Effie proved to be perfectly right in her anticipa- 
tions. The duke had hardly set himself down at Mrs. 
Sutler's right hand^ and taken upon himself the tiisk 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. 1 i 9 

of carving the excellent " barn-door cluicky,*' which 
had heen selected as the high dish upon this honour- 
able occasion, before he began to s])eak of lady Staun- 
ton of Willingliam in Lincolnshire., and the great 
noise which her wit and beauty made in London. For 
much of this Jeanie was, in some measure, ])rei)ared — 
but Effie's wit ! that would never have entered into 
h^' imagination, being ignorant how exactly raillery 
in the higher ranks resembles flippancy among their 
inferiors. 

" She has been the ruling belle — the blazing star — 
the universal toast of tiie winter," said the duke; 
«< and is really the most beautiful creature that was 
seen at court upon the birth-day." 

The birth-day ! and at court ! — Jeanie was annihi- 
lated, remembering well her ow n presentation, all its 
extraordinary circumstances, and particularly the 
cause of it. 

« I mention this lady particularly to you, Mrs. 
Butler," said the duke, " because she has something 
in the sound of her voice, and cast of her countenance, 
that reminded me of you — not when you look so pale 
though — you have over fatigued yourself— you must 
pledge me in a glass of wine." 

She did so, and Butler observed, « It was dangerous 
flattery in his grace to tell a poor minister's wife that 
she was like a court-beauty." 

<< Oho ! Mr. Butler," said the duke, « I find you 
are growing jealous; but it's rather too late in the 
day, for you know how long I have admired your 
wife. But seriously, there is betwixt them one of 
those inexplicable likenesses which we see in counten- 
ances, that do not otherwise resemble each other." 

« The perilous part of the compliment has flown off*," 
said Mr. Butler. 

His wife, feeling the awkwardness of silence, forced 
herself to say, *« That, perhaps, the lady might be 
her countrywoman, and the language might make some 
resemblance." 



120 Tales of My Landlord. 

"You are quite right," replied the duke. « She is 
a Scotchwoman, and speaks with a Scotch accent, and 
now and then a provincial word drops out so prettily, 
that it is quite doric, Mr. Butler." 

" 1 should have thought," said the clergyman, " that 
would have sounded vulgar in the great city." 

<< Not at all," replied the duke; "you must sup- 
pose it is not the broad coarse Scotch that is spoke yi 
the Cowgate of Edinburgh, or in the Gorbals. Tliis 
lady has been very little in Scotland, in fact — She was 
educated in a convent abroad, and speaks that pure 
court-Scotch, which was common in my younger days ; 
but it is so generally disused now, that it sounds like a 
different dialect, entirely distinct from our modern 
patois ?" 

Notwithstanding her anxiety, Jeanie could not help 
admiring within herself, how the most correct judges 
of life and manners can be imposed on by their own 
preconceptions, while the duke proceeded thus : « She 
is of the unfortunate house of Winton, I believe; 
but, being bred abroad, she had missed the opportunity 
of learning her own pedigree, and was obliged to me 
for informing her, that she comes of the Setons of 
Windygoul. I wish you could have seen how prettily 
she blushed at her own ignorance. Amidst iier noble 
and elegant manners, there is now and then a little 
touch of bashfulness and conventual rusticity, if I may 
call it so, that makes her quite enchanting. You see 
at once the rose that liad bloomed untouclied amid the 
chaste precincts of the cloister, Mr. Butler." 

True to the hint, Mr. Butler failed not to start 
with his 

" Ut flos in septis secretus nascitur hortis,'* &c. 

while liis wife could hardly persuade herself that all 
this was spoken of Effie Deans, and by so competent 
a judge as the duke of Argyle; and had shebeen 
acquainted with Catullus, would have thought the 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. 121 

fortunes of her sister had reversed the whole pas- 
sage. 

She was, however, determined to obtain some in- 
demnification for the anxious feelings of the moment, 
by gaining all the intelligence she could ; and therefore 
ventured to make some enquiry about the husband of 
the lady his grace admired so much. 

« He is very rich," replied the duke ; of an an- 
cient family, and has good manners ; but he is far 
from being such a favourite as his wife. — Some peo- 
ple say he can be very pleasant — I never saw him so; 
but should rather judge him reserved, and gloomy and 
capricious. He was very wild in his youth, they say, 
and has bad health ; yet he is a young good-looking 
man enough ; a great friend of your lord high com- 
missioner of the kirk, Mr. Butler." 

" Then he is the friend of a very worthy and ho- 
nourable nobleman," said Butler. 

« Does he admire his lady as much as other people 
do ?" said Jeanie, in a low voice. 

« Who — Sir George ? They say he is very fond 
of her," said the duke; « but I observe she trembles 
a little when he fixes his eye on her, and that is no 
good sign — But it is strange how I am haunted by 
this resemblance of your's to lady Staunton, in look 
and tone of voice. One would alaiost swear you 
were sisters." 

Jeanie's distress became uncontrolable, and be- 
yond concealment. The duke of Argyle was much 
disturbed, good-naturedly ascribing it to his having 
unwittingly recalled to her remembrance her family 
misfortunes. He was too well-bred to attempt to apo- 
logize; but hastened to change the subject, and ar- 
range certain points of dispute which had occurred 
betwixt Duncan of Knock and the minister, acknow- 
ledging that his worthy substitute was sometimes a 
little too obstinate, as well as too energetic, in his ex- 
ecutive measures. 

Mr. Butler admitted his general merits; but said. 



122 Tales of My Landlord, 

" He would presume to apply to the worthy gentle- 
man the words of the poet to Marrucinus Asinius, 

** * Manu 

Non belle uteris in joco at que vino.' " 

The discourse heing thus turned on parish husi- 
ness, nothing further occurred that can interest tlie 
reader. 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian, ItS 

CHAPTER XII. 

I' poll my head they placed a fruitless crown, 

And put a barren sceptre in my gripe, 

Thence to be wrench'd by an unlineal hand, 

No son of mine succeeding*. Macbeth. 

After this period, but under the most strict pre- 
cautions against discovery, the sisters corresponded 
occasionally, exchanging letters about twice every 
year. Those of lady Staunton spoke of her hus- 
band's health and spirits as being deplorably uncer- 
tain ; Iier own seemed also to be sinking, and one of 
the topics on which she most frequently dwelt, was 
their want of family. Sir George Staunton, always 
violent, had taken some aversion at the next heir, 
whom he suspected of having irritated his friends 
against liim during his absence; and he declared, he 
\vould bequeath Wiilingham and all its lands to a hos- 
pital, ere that fetch and carry tell-tale should inherit 
an acre of it. 

<* Had he but a child," said the unfortunate wife, 
<i or had that luckless infant survived, it would be 
some motive for living and for exertion. But Heaven 
has denied us a blessing which we have not deserved." 

Such complaints, in varied form, but turning fre- 
quently on the same topic, filled the letters which 
passed from the spacious but melancholy halls of Wii- 
lingham, to the quiet and happy parsonage at Knock- 
tarlitie. Years meanwhile rolled on amid these fruit- 
less repinings. John duke of Argyle and Greenwich 
died in the year 1 743, universally lamented, but by 
none more than by the Butlers, to whom his benevo- 
lence had been so distinguished. He was succeeded 
by his brother duke Archibald, with whom they had 
not the same intimacy ; but who continued the pro- 
tection which his brother had extended towards them. 
This, indeed, became more necessary than ever; for, 
after the breaking out and suppression of the rebellion 
in 1745, the peace of the country, adjacent to the High- 
lands, was considerably disturbed. Marauders> or men 

VOL IV. 12 



124 Tales of My Landlord, 

that liad been driven to that desperate mode of life, 
quartered themselves in the fastnesses nearest to the 
Lowlands, which were their scene of plunder; and 
there is scarce a glen in the romantic and now peacea- 
ble Highlands of Perth, Stirling, and Dumbarton- 
vshire, where one or more did not take up their resi- 
dence. 

The prime pest of the parish of Knocktarlitie was 
a certain Donacha d!iu na Dunaigh, or Black Duncan 
the Mischievous, whom we have already casually men- 
tioned. This fellow had been originally a tinkler or 
cairdf many of whom stroll about these districts; but 
when all police was disorganized by the civil war, he 
threw np his profession, and from half thief became 
whole robber; and being generally at theliead of three 
or four active young fellows, and he hisnself artful, 
bold, and well acquainted with the passes, he plied his 
new profession with emolument to himsslf, and infi- 
nite jdague to the coutitry. 

All were convinced that Duncan of Knock could 
have put down his namesake Donacha any morning 
he had a mind ; for there were in the parish a set of 
stout young men, who had joined Argylc's banner in 
the war under his old friend, and behaved vei-y well 
npon several occasions. And as for their leader, as 
no one doubted his courage, it was generally supposed 
that Donacha had found out the mode of conciliating 
his favour, a thing not very uncommon in that age 
and country. This was the more readily believed, as 
David Deans's cattle (being the property of the duke) 
were left untouched, when the minister's cows were 
carried off by the thieves. Another attempt was made 
to renew the same act of rapine, and the cattle were in 
the act of being driven off, when Butler, laying his 
profession aside in a case of such necessity, put himself 
at the head of some of his neighbours, and rescued the 
creagh, an exploit at which Deans attended in person 
on the occasion, notwithstanding his extreme old age, 
mounted on a Highland poney, and girded with an old 
broadsword, likening himself (for he failed not to ar- 
rogate th^ whole merit of the expedition) to David, 



The Heart of Md-Lothian. 125 

the son of Jesse, when lie recovered the spoil of Zig- 
lag from the Amalekitcs. This spirited behaviour 
liad so far a good effect, that Douacha dim na Dunaigh 
kept his distance for some time to come; and, though 
his distant exploits were frequently spoken of, he did 
not exei'cise any depredations in that part of the coun- 
try. He continued to flourish, and to be heard of oc- 
casionally, until the year 1751, when, if the fear of 
the second David had kept him in check, fate released 
him from that restraint, for the venera.ble patriarch of 
St. Leonard's was that year gathered to his fathers. 

Da\ id Deans died full of years and of honour. He 
is believed, for the exact time of his birtli is not 
known, to liave lived upwards of ninety years; for he 
used to speak of events, as tailing under his own 
knowledge, wiiich happened about tlie time of the bat- 
tle of Both well-Bridge. It was said that he even 
bore arms there ; for once, when a drunken Jacobite 
laird wished for a BothwoU-Brigg whig, that " he 
might stow tlie lugs out of his head," David informed 
him with a peculiar austerity of countenance, that if 
he liked to try such a prank, there was one at his el- 
bow ; and it required the interference of Butler to pre- 
serve the peace. 

He expired in the arms of his beloved daughter, 
thankful for all the blessings which Providence 
had vouchsafed to him while in this valley of strife and 
trial — and thankful also for the tiials he had been vi- 
sited with ; having found them, he said, needful to mor- 
tify that spiritual pride and confidence in his own gifts, 
which was the side on wliich the wily enemy did most 
sorely beset him. He prayed in the most effecting 
manner for Jofeie, her husband, and her family, and 
that her affectionate duty to the puir auld man might 
purchase her length of days here, and happiness 
hereafter ; then, in apathetic petition, too well under- 
stood by those who knew his family circumstances, he 
besought the shepherd of souls, while gathering his 
flock, not to forget the little one that had strayed 
from the fold, and even then might be in the 
hands of the ravening wolf. — He prayed for the na,r 



126 Tales of My Landlord. 

tional Jerusalem, that peace might be in lier land and 
prosperity in her palaces — for the welfare of the 
honourable house of Arg^'le, and for the conversion of 
Duncan of Knockdunder. After this he was silent, 
being exhausted, nor did lie again utter any thing dis- 
tinctly. He was heard indeed to mutter something 
about national defections, right-hand extremes, and 
left-hand fallings oft'^ but, as May Hcttiy observed, 
his head was carried at the time: and it is probable 
that these expressions occurred to him merely out of 
general habit, and that he died in thfe full spirit of 
charity with all men. About an hour afterw^ards he 
slept in the Lord. 

Notwitbstandii'ig her father's advanced age, his 
death was a severe shock to Mrs. Butler. Much of 
her time had been dedicated to attending to his health 
and his wishes, and she felt as if part of her business 
in the world was ended, when the good old man was 
no more. His wealth, wl)ich came nearly to fifteen 
hundred pounds, in disposable capital, served to raise 
the fortunes of the family at the manse. How to dis^- 
pose of this sum for the best advantage of his family, 
was matter of anxious consideration to Butler. 

" If we put it on heritable bond, we will maybe lose 
the interest; for there's that bond over Lounsbeck's 
land, your father could neither get principal nor interest 
for it — If we bring it into the funds, we w ill maybe 
lose the principal and all, as many did in the South- 
sea scheme. The little estate of Craigsture is in the 
market — it lies within two miles of the manse, and 
Knock says his grace has no thought to buy it. But 
they ask /2,500, and they may, for it is w^orth the 
money ; and were I to borrow the bmnce, the credi- 
tor might call it up suddenly, or in case of my death 
my family might be distressed." 

<^ And so, if we had mair siller, we might buy that 
Lonnie pasture-ground, where the grass comes so 
early ?" asked Jeanie. 

« Certainly, my dear; and Knockdunder, wiio is a 
good judge, is strongly advising me to it.— To be sure 
it is his nephew that is selling it.'^ 



The Heart of Mid-Lottiian, 1 27 

<^Aweel, Reuben," said Jcanie, "ye maun just look 
up a text in scripture, as ye did when ye wanted siller 
before — just look up a text in the bible." 

«Ah, Jeanie,-' said Butler, laughin.a; and pressing 
her hand at the same time, " the best people in these 
times can only work miracles once." 

« AVe will see," said Jeanie composedly; and, go- 
ing to the closet in which she kept her honey, her su- 
gar, her pots of jelly, her vials of the more ordinary 
medicines, and which served her, in short, as a sort 
of store-room, she jangled vials and gallipots, till, 
from out the darkest nook, well flanked by a triple 
row of bottles and jars, which she was under the ne- 
cessity of displacing, she brought a cracked brown 
cann, with a piece of leather tied over the top. Its 
contents seemed to be written papers, thrust in disor- 
der into this uncommon secretaire. But from among 
these Jeanie brought an old clasped bible, which had 
been David Deans's companion in his earlier wander- 
ings, and which he had giv en to his daughter when the 
failure of his eyes had compelled him to use one of a 
larger print. This she gave to Butler, who had been 
looking at her motions witii some surprise, and de- 
sired him to see what tiiat book could do for him. He 
opened the clasps, and to his astonishment a parcel of 
150 bank-notes dropped out from betwixt the leaves, 
where they had been separately lodged, and fluttered 
npon the floor. "I didna think to hae tauld you o' 
my wealth, Reuben," said his wife, smiling at his sur- 
prise, "till on my death-bed, or maybe on some fami- 
ly pinch ; but it wad be better laid out on yon bonny 
grass holms, than lying useless here in this auld pigg.'^ 

« How on earth came ye by that siller, Jeanie ? — 
Why, here is more than a thousand pounds," said But- 
ler, lifting up and counting the notes. 

" If it were ten thousand, it's a' honestly come by," 
said Jeanie ; <« and troth I kenna how muckle there 
is o't, but it's a' there that ever I got. — And as for 
how I came by it, Reuben — it's weel come by, and 
honestly, as I said before — And it's mair folk's secret 
12* 



128 Tales of Mij Landlord, 

than mine, or ye wad hae kenned about it lang syne ; 
and as for ony thing else, I am not free to answer 
mair questions about it, and ye maun just ask me 
nane." 

" Answer me but one," said Butler. <« Is it all free- 
ly and indisputably your own property, to dispose of 
it as you think fit ? — Is it possible no one has a claim 
in so large a sum except you?" 

<« It was mine, free to dispose of it as I like/' an- 
swered Jeanie ; " and I have disposed of it already, 
for now it is yours, Reuben — You are Bible Butler 
now, as weel as your forbear, that my puir father had 
sic an ill will at. Only if ye like, I wad wish Femie 
to get agude share o't when we are gane." 

<« Certainly, it shall be as you chuse — But who on 
earth ever pitched on such a hiding-place for tempo- 
ral treasures ?" 

<^ That is just ane o' my auld-fashioned gates, as 
you ca' them, Reuben. I thought if Donacha Dhu 
was to make an outbreak upon us, the bible was the 
last thing in the house he wad meddle wi' — but an' 
ony mair siller should drap in, as it is not unlikely, I 
shall e'en pay it ower to you, and ye may lay it out 
your ain way." 

«< And I positively must not ask you how you have 
come by all this money ?" said the clergyman. 

" Indeed, Reuben, you must not ; for if you were 
asking me very sair I wad maybe tell you, and then I 
am sure I would do wrong." 

« But tell me," said Butler, "is it any thing that 
distresses your own mind V 

« There is baith weal and woe come aye wi' warld's 
gear, Reuben ; but ye maun ask me naething mair — ' 
This siller binds me to naething, and can never be 
speered back again." 

« Surely," said Mr. Butler, when he had again 
counted over the money, as if to assure himself that 
the notes were real, " there was never man in the 
world had a wife like mine—a blessing seems to fol- 
low her." 

it Never," said Jeanie, ff since the enchanted 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. 1^9 

princess in the bairns' fairy tale, that kamed gold no- 
bles out o' the tae side of her haffit locks, and Dutcfi 
dollars out o' the tother. But gang away now, minis- 
ter, and put by the siller, and dinna keep the notes 
wampishing in your hand that gate, or I will wish tliem 
in the brown pigg again, for fear we get a black cast 
about them — we're ower near tlie hills in these times 
to be thought to hae siller in the house. And, besides, 
ye maun gree wi' Knockdunder, that has the selling 
o' tlie lands; and dinna you be simple and let him ken 
o' this windfa', but keep him to the very lowest penny, 
as if ye had to borrow siller to make the price up." 

In the last admonition Jeanie showed distinctly, 
that, although she did not understand how to secure 
the money which came into her hands otherwise than 
by saving and hoarding it, yet she had some part of 
her father David's shrewdness, even upon worldly 
subjects. And Reuben Butler was a prudent man, 
and went and did even as his wife had advised him. 

The news quickly went abroad into the parish that 
the minister had bought Craigsture ; and some wish- 
ed him joy, and some " were sorry it had gane out of 
the auld name." However, his clerical brethren, un- 
derstanding that he was under the necessity of going 
to Edinburgh about the ensuing Whitsunday, to get 
together David Deans's cash to make up the purchase- 
money of his new acquisition, took the opportunity to 
name him their delegate to the general assembly, or 
convocation of the Scottish church, which takes 
place usually in the latter end of the month of May, 



CHAPTER XIII. 

But who is this ? what thing of sea or land — 

Female of sex it seems — 

That so bedeck'd, ornate, and gay. 

Comes this way sailing ? Milton. 

Not long after the incident of the Bible and the 
bank-notes. Fortune showed that she could surprise 
Mrs. Butler as well as her husband. The minister, 



Tales of J\Iy Landlord, 

III order to accomplish the various pieces of business, 
which his unwonted visit to Edinburgli rendered ne- 
cessary, had been under the necessity of settinii; out 
from home in the latter end of the month of Februa- 
17, conchidii]g justly, that he would find the space be- 
twixt his departure and the term of Whitsunday (24th 
May) short enough for the purpose of bringing for- 
ward those various debtors of old David Deans, out 
of whose purses a considerable part of the price of 
his new purchase was to be made good. 

Jeanie was thus in the unwonted situation of inha- 
biting a lonely house, and she felt yet more solitary 
from the death of the good old man, who used to di- 
vide lier cares with her husband. Her children were 
her principal resource, and to them she paid constant 
attention. 

It happened, a day or two after Butler's departure, 
that, while she was engaged in some domestic duties, 
she heard a dispute among the young folks, which, be- 
ing maintained with obstinacy, appeared to call for 
her interference. All came to their natural umpire 
with their complaints. Femie, not yet ten years old, 
charged Davie and Reubie with an attempt to take 
away her book by force ; and David and Reuben re- 
plied, the elder, " That it was not a book for Femie 
to read,*' and Reuben, « That it was about a bad 
woman." 

"Where did ye get the book, ye little hempie ?" 
said Mrs. Butler. " How dare ye touch papa's books 
when he is away ?" 

But the little lady, holding fast a sheet of crumpled 
paper, declared, « It was nane o' papa's books, and 
May Hettly had taken it off the muckle cheese wliich 
came from Inverara;" for, as was very natural to sup- 
pose, a friendly intercourse, with interchange of mu- 
tual civilities, was kept up from time to time between 
Mrs. Dolly Dutton, now Mrs. MacCorkindale, and 
her former friends. 

Jeanie took the subject of contention out of the 
child's hand, to satisfy herself of the propriety of her 
studies 5 biit how much was she struck when she jread 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 151 

mion the title of the broadside slieet, " The last Speech, 
Confession, and Dying AVords of Margaret MacCraw, 
or Miirdockson, executed on Harabee-hill, near Car- 
lisle, the — day of 1737." It was, indeed, one 

of tiiose papers which Archibald had bought at Long- 
town, when he monopolized the pedlar's stock, Avhicli 
Dolly had tlirust into her trunk out of sheer economy. 
One or two copies, it seems, had remained in her re- 
positories at Inverara, till she chanced to need them in 
packing a cheese, which, as a very superior produc- 
tion, was sent, in tlie way of civil challenge, to the 
dairy at Knocktarlitie. 

The title of this paper, so strangely fallen into the 
very iiands from which, in well-meant respect to her 
feelings, it had beeii so long detained, was of itself suf- 
ficiently startling; but the narrative itself was so in- 
teresting, that Jeanie, shaking herself loose from the 
children, ran up stairs to her own apartment, and bolt- 
ed the door, to peruse it without interruption. 

The narrative, which appeared to have been drawn 
np, or at least corrected, by the clergyman who attend- 
ed this unhappy woman, stated the crime for which 
she suffered to have been " her active part in that atro- 
cious robbery and murder, committed near two years 
since near Haltwhistle, for which the notorious Frank 
liCvitt was committed for trial at Lancaster assizes. 
It was supposed the evidence of the accomplice, Tho- 
mas Tuck, commonly called Tyburn Tom, upon which 
tlie woman had been convicted, would weigh equally 
heavy against him ; although many were inclined to 
think it was Tuck himself who had struck the fatal 
blow, according to the dying statement of Meg Mur- 
dockson." 

After a circumstantial account of the crime for 
which she suffered, there was a brief sketch of Mar- 
garet's life. It was stated, that she was a Scotch- 
woman by birth, and married a soldier in the Came- 
ronian regiment — that she long followed the camp, 
and had doubtless acquired in fields of battle, and simi- 
lar scenes, that ferocity and love of plunder for which 
she had been afterwards distinguished — that her hus- 



132 Tales of My Landlord, 

band, having obtained his discharge, became servant 
to a beneficed clergyman of high situation and cha- 
racter in Lincolnsiiire, and that she acquired the con- 
fidence and esteem of that hoiu)urable family. She- 
liad lost this many years after i»er husband\s death, it 
was stated, in consequence of conniving at the ii-regu- 
larities of her daughter vviti) the heir of tiie family, 
added to the suspicious circumstances attending the 
birth of a child, which was strongly suspected to have 
met with foul play, in order to preserve, if possible, 
the girl's reputation. After this, she had led a wan- 
dering life both in England and Scotland, under co- 
lour sometimes of telling fortunes, sometimes of driv- 
ing a ti'ade in smugg!e(i wares, but, in fact, receiving 
stolen goods, and occasionally actively joining in the 
exploits by which they were obtained. Many of her 
crimes she had boasted of after conviction, and there 
was one circumstance for which she seemed to feel a 
mixture of joy and occasional compunction. Wiien 
she was residing in the suburbs of Edinburgh durijag 
the preceding summer, a girl, who had been seduced 
by one of her confederates, was entrusted to her 
charge, and in her house delivered of a male infant. 
Her daughter, whose mind was in a state of derange- 
ment ever since she had lost her own child, according 
to the criminal's account, carried off the poor girl's 
infant, taking it for her own, of tlie reality of whose 
death she at times could not be pei'suaded. 

Margaret Murdockson stated, that she, for some?' 
time, believed her daugliter had actually destroyed 
the infant in her mad fits, and that she gave the fa- 
ther to understand so, but afterwards learned that a 
female stroller had got it from her. She shoNNcd some 
compunction at having separated mother and child, 
especially as the motlier had nearly suffered death, 
being condemned, on the Scotch law, for the suppos- 
ed murther of her infant. When it was asked what 
possible interest she could have had in exposing the 
unfortunate girl to suffer for a crime she had not com- 
mitted, she asked, if they thought she was going to 
put her own daughter into trouble to save another ? 



The Heart of Mid- Loihian. 133 

she (lid not know what the Scotch law would have 
done to her for carrying the child away. This an- 
swer was by no means satisfactory to the clergyman, 
and he discovered, by close examination, that she had 
a deep and revengeful liatred against tlie young per- 
son whom she had thus injured. But the paper inti- 
mated, that, whatever besides she had communicated 
upon this subject, was confided by her in private to 
the worthy and reverend arcii-deacon who had bestow- 
ed such particular pains in affording lier spiritual as- 
sistance. The broadside went on to intimate, that af- 
ter her execution, of which the particulars were giv- 
en, her daughter, the insane person mentioned more 
than once, and who was generally known by the name 
of Madge Wildfire, had been very ill used by the po- 
pulace, under tlie belief that she was a sorceress, and 
an accomplice in her mother's crimes, and had been 
with difficulty rescued by tlie prompt interference of 
the police. 

Such (for we omit moral reflections, and all that 
may seem unnecessary to the explanation of our sto- 
ry) was the tenor of the broadside. To Mrs. Butler 
it contained intelligence of the highest importance, 
since it seemed to afford the most unequivocal proof 
of her sistei*'s innocence respecting the crime for 
which she had no nearly suffered. It is true, neither 
she nor her husband, nor even her father, had ever 
believed her capable of touching her infant with an 
unkind hand when in possession of her reason ,• but 
there was a darkness on the subject, and what might 
have happened in a moment of insanity was dreadful 
to think upon. Besides, whatever was their own 
conviction, they had no means of establishing Effie's 
innocence to the world, which, according to the tenor 
of this fugitive publication, was now at length com- 
pletely manifested by the dying confession of the per- 
son chiefly interested in concealing it. 

After thanking God for a discovery so dear to her 
feelings, Mrs. Butler began to consider what use she 
should make of it. To have shown it to her husband 
would have been her first impulse, but, besides that he 



154 Tales of My Landlord, 

was absent from home, and the matter too delicate to 
be the subject of correspondence by an indifferent 
penwoman, Mrs. Butler recollected that he was not 
possessed of the information necessary to form a judg- 
ment upon the occasion, and that, adhering to the 
rule which she had considered as most advisable, she 
had best transmit the information immediately to her 
sister, and leave her to adjust with her husband the 
mode in which they should avail tliemselves of it. Ac- 
cordingly she dispatched a special messenger to Glas- 
gow, with a packet, inclosing the confession of Mar- 
garet Murdockson, addressed, as usual, under cover, 
to Mr. Whiterose of York. She expected, with anx- 
iety, an answer, but none arrived in the usual course 
of post, and she was left to imagine how many va- 
rious causes might account for lady Staunton's si- 
lence. She began to be half sorry that she had part- 
ed with the printed paj)er, both for fear of its liaving 
fallen into bad hands, and from the desire of regain- 
ing the document, which might be essential to esta- 
blish her sister's innocence. She was even doubting 
whether she had not better commit the whole matter 
to her husband's consideration, when other incidents 
occurred to divert her purpose, 

Jeanie (she is a favourite, and we beg her pardon 
for still nsing the familiar title) had walked down to 
the sea-side with her children one morning after 
breakfast, when the boys whose si^ht was more 
discriminating than her's, exclaimed, that " the cap- 
tain's coach and six was coming right for the shore, 
with ladies in it," Jeanie instinctively bent her eyes 
on the approaching boat, and became soon sensible 
that there were two females in the stern, seated beside 
the gracious Duncan, who acted as pilot. It was a 
point of politeness to walk towards the landing- 
place, in order to receive them, especially as she saw 
that the captain of Knockdunder was upon honour 
and ceremony. His piper was in the bow of the boat, 
sending forth music, of which one half sounded the 
better that the other was drowned by the waves and. 
the breeze. Moreover, he himself had his brigadier 



The Heart oj Mid-Lothian, 135 

wig newly frizzed, his bonnet (he had abjured the 
cocked hat) decorated with Saint George's red cross, 
his uniform mounted as a captain of militia, the duke's 
flag with the boar's head displayed — all intimated 
parade and gala. 

As Mrs. Butler approached the landing-place, she 
observed the captain hand the ladies ashore with 
marks of great attention, and the party advanced to- 
wards her, the captain a few steps before the two la- 
dies, of whom the taller and elder leaned on the shoulder 
of the other, who seemed to be an attendant or servant. 

As they met, Duncan, in his best, most important, 
and deepest tone of Highland civility, « pegged leave 
to introduce to Mrs. Putler, lady — eh — eh — ^Ihaefor- 
gotton your leddyship's name." 

<« Never mind my name, sir,", said the lady ; *< I 
trust Mrs. Butler will be at no loss. The duke's let- 
ter" And, as she observed Mrs. Butler look con- 
fused, she said again to Duncan something sharply, 
*» Did you not send the letter last night, sir ?" 

« In troth and I didna, and I crave your leddy ship's 
pardon ; but you see, matam, I thought it would do as 
weel to-tay, pecause Mrs. Putler is never taen out o' 
sorts — never — and the coach was out fishing — and the 
gig was gaen to Greenock for a cag of prandy — and 
Put here's his grace's letter." 

« Give it me, sir," said the lady, taking it out of 
his hand ; " since you have not found it convenient to 
do me the favour to send it before me, I will deliver it 
myself." 

Mrs. Butler looked with great attention, and a cer- 
tain dubious feeling of deep iftterest on tlie lady, who 
thus expressed herself with authority over the man of 
authority, and to whose mandates he seemed to sub- 
mit, resigning the letter with a " Just as your leddy- 
ship is pleased to order it." 

The lady was rather above the middle size, beauti- 
fully made, though something e» hon point, with a hand 
and arm exquisitely formed. Her manner was easy, 
dignified, and commanding, and seemed to evince high 

VOL. IV. 13 



136 Tales of Mij Landlord. 

birth and the habits of elevated society. She wore a 
travelling dress — a grey beaver hat, and a veil of Flan- 
ders lace. Two footmen, in rich liveries, who got 
out of the barge, and lifted out a trunk and port- 
manteau, appeared to belong to her suite. 

« As you did not receive the letter, madam, which 
should have served for my introduction — for I pre- 
sume you are Mrs. Butler — I will not present it to you 
till you are so good as to admit me into your house 
without it." 

"To pe sure, matam," said Knoekdunder, "ye 
canna doubt Mrs. Piitler will do that. Mrs. Putler, this 
is lady — ^lady — these tamn'd southern names rin out o' 
my head like a stane trowling down hill — put I be- 
lieve she is a Scottish woman porn — ^the mair our credit 
— and I presume her leddyship is of the house of ." 

<* The duke of Argyle knows my family very well, 
sir," said the lady, in a tone which seemed designed 
to silence Duncan, or, at any rate, which had that ef- 
fect completely. 

There was something about the whole of this stran- 
ger's address, and tone and manner, which acted upon 
Jeanie's feelings like the illusions of a dream, that 
teaze us with a puzzling approach to reality. Some- 
thing there was of her sister in the gait and manner 
of the stranger, as well as in the sound of her voice, 
and something also, when litUng her veil, she shewed 
features, to which, changed as they were in expression 
and complexion, she could not but attach many re- 
membrances. 

The stranger was turned of thirty certainly; but 
so well were her personal charms assisted by the pow- 
er of dress, and arrangement of ornament, that she 
might well have passed for one-and tv/enty. And her be- 
haviour was so steady and so composed, that as often 
as Mrs. Butler perceived anew some point of resem- 
blance to her unfortunate sister, so often the sustained 
self-command and absolute composure of the stranger 
destroyed the ideas which began to arise in her ima- 
gination. She led the way silently towards the manse. 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, isr 

lost in a confusion of reflections, and trusting the let- 
ter with which she was to he there entrusted, would 
afford her satisfactory explanation of what was a most 
puzzling and embarrassing scene. 

The lady maintained in the meanwhile the manners 
of a stranger of rank. She admired the various points 
of view like one who has studied nature, and the best 
representations of art. At length she took notice of 
the children. 

<« These are two fine young mountaineers — Your's, 
madam, I presume?" 

Jeanie replied in the aflirmative. The stranger 
sighed, and sighed once more as they were presented 
to her by name. 

^•' Come here, Femie," said Mrs. Butler, « and 
hold your head up." 

<« What is your daughter's name, madam ?" said 
tlie lady. 

<« Euphemia, madam," answered Mrs. Butler. 

*« I thought the ordinary Scottish contraction of the 
name had been Effie," replied the stranger in a tone 
which went to Jeanie's heart; for in that single word 
there was more of her sister — more of lang syne ideas 
— than in all the reminiscences which her own heart 
had anticipated, or the features and manner of the 
stranger had suggested. 

When they reached the manse, the lady gave Mrs. 
Butler the letter which she had taken out of the hands 
of Knockdunder; and as she gave it she pressed her 
hand, adding aloud, *< Perhaps, madam, you will have 
the goodness to get me a little milk." 

<« And me a drap of the grey-peard, if you please, 
Mrs. Putler," added Duncan. 

Mrs. Butler withdrew, but deputing to May Hettly 
and to David the supply of tlie strangers' wants, she 
hastened into her own room to read the letter. The 
envelope was addressed in the duke of Ai'gyle's hand, 
and requested Mrs. Butler's attentions and civility to 
a lady of rank, a particular friend of his late brother, 
lady Staunton of Willingham, who being recommend- 



138 Tales of My Landlord, 

ed to drink goats' whey by the physicians, was to 
honour the Lodge at Roseneath with her residence, 
while her husband made a short tour in Scotland. But 
within the same cover, which had been given to lady 
Staunton unsealed, was a letter from that lady, intend- 
ed to prepare her sister for meeting her, and which, 
but for the captain's negligence, she ought to have re- 
ceived on the preceding evening. It stated that the 
news in Jeanie's last letter had been so interesting to 
her husband, that he was determined to enquire further 
into the confession made at Carlisle, and the fate of 
that poor innocent, and that as he had been in some 
degree successful, she had by the most earnest entrea- 
ties extorted rather than obtained his permission, un- 
der promise of observing the most strict incognito, to 
spend a week or two with her sister, or in her neigh- 
bourhood, while he was prosecuting researches, to 
which (though it appeared to her very vainly) he 
seemed to attach some hopes of success. 

There was a postscript, desiring that Jeanie woidd 
trust to lady S. the management of their intercourse, 
and be content with assenting to what she should pro- 
pose. After reading and again reading the letter, 
Mrs. Butler hurried dovvn stairs, divided betwixt the 
fear of betraying her secret, and the desire to throw 
herself upon her sister's neck. Efile received her with 
a glance at once affectionate and cautionary, and im- 
mediately proceeded to speak. 

" I have been "telling Mr. , captain , this 

gentleman, Mrs. Butler, tliat if you could accommo- 
date me with an apartment in your house, and a place 
for Ellis to sleep, and for the two men, it would suit 
me better thaa the Lodge, which his grace has so 
kindly placed at my disposal. I am advised I should 
reside as near where the goats feed as possible." 

*< I have pcen assuring my lady, Mrs. Putler," said 
Duncan, <« that though it could not discommode you 
to receive any of his grace's visitor's or mine, yet she 
had mooch petter stay at the Lodge; and for the gaits, 
the creatures can be fetched there, in respect it is mair 



The Heart oj Mid-Lothian, 139 

fittinj^ they suld wait upon her leddyship, than slie 
upon the like of them." 

<« By no means derange the goats for me," said lady 
Staunton ; " ,1 am certain the milk must he much bet- 
ter here." And this she said with languid negligence, 
as one whose slightest intimation of humour is to bear 
down all argument. 

Mrs. Butler hastened to intimate, that her house, 
such as it was, was heartily at the disposal of lady 
Staunton; but the captain continued to remonstrate. 

« The duke," he said, «^ had written"— 

<^ I will settle all that with his grace" — 

<« And there were the things had been sent down 
frae Glasco" — 

^i Any thing necessary might be sent over to tlie 
Parsonage — she would beg the favour of Mrs. Butler 
to shew her an apartment, and of the captain to have 
her trunks, &c. sent over from Roseneath." 

So she curtsied off poor Duncan, who departed, 
saying in his secret soul, «« Cottamn her English im- 
pudence ! — she takes possession of the minister's house 
as an it were her ain — and speaks to shentlemens as 
if they were pounden servants, and pe tamn'd to her! 
— And there's the deer that was shot too — but we will 
send it ower to the manse, whilk will pe put civil, 
seeing I hae prought worthy Mrs. Putler sic a ilisk- 
inalioy" — and with these kind intentions, he went to 
the shore to give his orders accordingly. 

In the meantime, the meeting of the sisters was as 
affectionate as it was extraordinary, and cacli evinced 
her feelings in the way proper to her character. 
Jeanie was so much overcome by wonder, and even by 
awe, that her feelings were deep, stunning, and almost 
overpowering. Eftie, on the otlier hand, wept, laugh- 
ed, sobbed, screamed, and clapped hei' hands for joy, 
all in the space of five minutes, giving way at once, 
and without reserve, to a natural excessive vivacity 
of temper, which no one, however, knew better how 
to restrain under the rules of artificial breeding. 

After an hour had passed like a moment in their 
15* 



140 Tales of My Landlord, 

expressions of mutual affection, lady Staunton ob- 
served the captain walking with impatient steps be- 
low the window. « That tiresome Highland fool has 
returned upon our hands," she said. << I will pray 
him to grace us with his absence." 

" Hout no! hout no!" said Mrs. Butler, in a tone 
ef entreaty; " ye maunna affront the captain." 

<< Affront?" said lady Staunton ; " no-body is ever 
affronted at what I do or say, my dear. However, I 
shall endure him, since you think it proper." 

The captain was accordingly graciously requested 
by lady Staunton to remain during dinner. During 
this visit his studious and punctilious complaisance to- 
wards the lady of rank was happily contrasted by the 
cavalier air of civil familiarity in which he indulged 
towards the minister's wife. 

<* 1 have not been able to persuade Mrs. Butler," 
said lady Staunton to the captain, during the interval 
when Jeanie had left the parlour, ««to let me talk of 
making any recompence for storming her house, and 
garrisoning it in the way I have done." 

*< Doubtless, matam," said the captain, « it wad ill 
pecome Mrs. Putler, wha is a very decent pody, to 
make any such sharge to a lady who comes from my 
house, or his grace's, which is the same thing. — And, 
speaking of garrisons, in the year forty-five, I was 
poot with a garrison of twenty of my lads in the house 
of Inver-Garry, whilk iiad near been unhappily for."— - 

« I beg your pardon, sir — But I wish I could think 
of some way of indemnifying this good lady." 

<« O, no need of intemnifying at all — no trouble for 
her, nothing at all — So, peing in the house of Inver- 
Garry, and the people about it being uncanny, I doubt- 
ed the warst, and" — 

*( Do you happen to know, sir," said lady Staunton, 
*« if any of these two lads, tliese young Butlers, t 
mean, show any turn for the army?" 

" Could not say, indeed, my lady," replied Knock- 
dunder — " So, I knowing the people to be unchancy, 
^nd not to lippen to, and hearing a pibroch in the 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 14 1 

wood, I pegan to pid my lads look to their flints^ and 
then"— 

^< For," said lady Staunton, with the most ruthless 
disregard to the narrative which she mangled hy these 
interruptions, <« if that should he the case, it sliould 
cost sir George but the asking a pair of colours for 
one of them at the war-office, since we have always 
supported government, and never had occasion to 
trouble ministers." 

<< And if you please, my leddy," said Duncan, 
who began to find some savour in this proposal, *« as I 
hae a braw weel grown lad of a nevoy, ca'd Duncan 
MacGilligan, that is as pig as paith the Putler pairns 
putten thegether, sir George could ask a pair for him 
at the same time, and it wad pe put ae asking for a\'* 

Lady Staunton only answered this hint with a well- 
bred stare, which gave no sort of encouragement. 

Jeanie, who now returned, was lost in amazement 
at the wonderful difference betwixt the helpless and 
despairing girl, whom she had seen stretched on a 
flock-bed in a dungeon, expecting a violent and dis- 
graceful death, and last as a forlorn exile upon the 
midnight beach, with the elegant, well-bred, beautiful 
woman before her. The features, now^ that her sis- 
ter's veil was laid aside, did not appear so extremely 
different, as the whole manner, expression, look, and 
bearing. In outside show, lady Staunton seemed com- 
pletely a creature too soft and fair for sorrow to have 
touched ; so much accustomed to have all her whims 
complied with by those around her, that she seemed to 
expect she should even be saved the trouble of forming 
them ; and so totally unacquainted with contradiction, 
that she did not even use the tone of self-will, since to 
breathe a wish was to have it fulfilled. She made no 
ceremony of ridding herself of Duncan so soon as 
the evening approaclied ; but complimented him out 
of the house under pretext of fatigue, with the ut- 
most non-chalance. 

When they were alone, her sister could not help ex- 
pressing her wonder at the self-possession with which{ 
lady Staunton sustained her part. 



142 Tales of My Landlord, 

fi I dare say you are surprised at it/' said lady 
Staunton, composedly ; <« for you, my dear Jeanie, 
have been truth itself from your cradle upwards ; but 
you must remember that I am a liar of fifteen years 
standing, and therefore must by this time be used to 
my character." 

In fact, during the feverish tumult of feelings excit- 
ed during the two or tliree first days, Mrs. Butler 
thought her sister's manner was completely contra- 
dictory of the desponding tone which pervaded her 
correspondence. She was moved to tears, indeed, by 
the sight of her father's grave, marked by a modest 
stone, recording his piety and integrity; but lighter 
impressions and associations had also power over her. 
She amused herself with visiting the dairy, in which 
she had so long been assistant, and was so near dis- 
covering herself to May Hettly, by betraying her ac- 
quaintance with tlie celebrated receipt for Dunlop 
cheese, tliat she compared herself to Bedreddin Has- 
san, whom the vizier, his father-in-law, discovered by 
his superlative skill in composing cream-tarts with 
pepper in them. But when the novelty of such avoca- 
tions ceased to amuse her, she showed to her sister 
but too plainly , that the gaudy colouring with which 
she veiled her unliappiness, afforded as little real 
comfort, as tlie gay uniform of the soldier when it is 
drawn over his mortal wound. There were moods 
and moments, in which her despondence seemed to 
exceed even that which she herself had described in 
her letters, and which too well convinced Mrs. But- 
ler how little her sister's lot, which in appearance was 
so brilliant, was, in reality, to be envied. 

There was one source, however, from which lady 
Staunton derived a pure degree of pleasure. Gifted 
in every particular with a higher degree of imagina- 
tion than that of her sister, she was an admirer of the 
beauties of nature, a taste which compensates many 
evils to those who happen to enjoy it. Here her char- 
acter of a fine lady stopped shorty where she ought to 
have 



The Heart oj Mid-Lotkian, 143 

" Scream*^d at ilk cleugh, and screech'd at ilka how, 
As loud as she had seen the worrie-cow." 

On the contrary, with the two hoys for her guides, 
she undertook long and fatiguing* walks among the 
neighbouring mountains, to visit glens, lakes, water- 
falls, or whatever scenes of natural wonder or beauty 
lay concealed among tlieir recesses. It is Words- 
worth, I think, who, talking of an old man under 
difficulties, remarks, with singular attention to na- 
ture, 

" whether it was care that spurred him, 

God only knows ; but to the very last, 
He had the lightest foot in Ennei'dale." 

In the same manner, languid, listless, and unhap- 
py, at times even indicating something which ap- 
proached near to contempt of the homely accommo- 
dations of her sister's house, although she instantly 
endeavoured, by a thousand kindnesses, to atone for 
such ebullitions of spleen. Lady Staunton appeared 
to feel interest and energy while in the open air, and 
amid tlie mountain landscapes, and in society with 
the two boys, whose ears she deliglited with stories 
of what slie had seen in other countries, and what 
she had to show them at Willingham Manor. And 
they, on the other hand, exerted themselves in doing 
the honours of Dumbartonshire to the lady who seem- 
ed so kind, insomuch that there was scarce a glen in 
the neighbouring hills to which they did not intro- 
duce lier. 

Upon one of these excursions, while Beuben was 
otherwise engaged, David alone acted as Lady Staun- 
ton's guide, and promised to show her a cascade in 
the hills, grander and iiigher than any they had yet 
visited. It Avas a walk of five long miles, and over 
rough ground, varied, however, and cheered by 
mountain views, and peeps now of the Fritli and its 
isLands, now of distant lakes, now of rocks and pre- 
cipices. The scene itself, too, when they reached it. 



144 Tales of My Landlord, 

amply rewarded the labour of tlie walk. A single 
shoot carried a considerable stream over the face of 
a black rock, which contrasted strongly in colour 
witi) the white foam of the cascade, and, at the depth 
of about twenty feet, another rock intercepted the 
view of the bottom of the fall. The water, wheeling 
out far beneath, swept round the crag, which tbus 
bounded their view, and tumbled down the rocky 
glen in a torrent of foam. Those who love nature 
always desire to penetrate into its utinost recesses, 
and Lady Staunton asked David whether there was 
not some mode of gaining a view of the abyss at the 
foot of the fall. He said that lie knew^ a station on a 
shelf, on the furtlier side of the intercepting rock, 
from which the wliole water- fall was visible, but that 
the road to it was steep and slippery and dangerous. 
Bent, however, on gratifying lier curiosity, she de- 
sired him to lead the way ; and accordingly he did so 
over crag and stone, anxiously pointing out to her 
the resting-places where she ouglit to step, for their 
mode of advancing soon ceased to be walking, and 
became scrambling. 

In tills manner, clinging like sea-birds to the face 
of the rock, they were enabled at length to turn round 
it, and came full in front of tJic fall, which here had 
a most tremendous aspect, boiling, roaring, and 
thundering with unceasing din, into a black cauldron, 
a hundred feet at least below them, which resembled 
the crater of a volcano. The din, the dashing of the 
waters, which gave an unsteady appearance to all 
around them, the trembling even of the huge crag on 
which they stood, tlie precariousness of their footing, 
for there was scarce room for them to stand on the 
slielf of rock which tliey had tlius attained, had so 
l)owerfal an effect on tlie senses and imagination of 
Lady Staunton, that she called out to David she was 
falling, and would in fact liave dropped from the crag 
had he not caught hold of her. The boy was bold 
and stout of ]iis age — still he was but fourteen years 
old, and as Iiis assistance gave no confidence to Lady 



TAe Heart of Mid- Lothian, 145 

Stauiiton, she felt her situation become really peril- 
ous. The chance was, that, in the appalling novelty 
of tlie circumstances, he might have caught the in- 
fection of her panic, in wliich case it is likely that 
both must have perished. She now screamed with 
terror, though without hope of calling any one to her 
assistance. To her amazement, the scream was an- 
swered by a whistle from above, of a tone so clear 
and shrill, that it was heard even amid the noise of 
the water-fall. 

In this moment of terror and perplexity, a human 
face, black, and having grizzled hair hanging down 
over the forehead and cheeks, and mixing with mou- 
staches and a beard of the same colour, and as much 
matted and tangled, looked down on them from a bro- 
p ken i)art of tlie rock above. 

" It is The Enemy !" said the boy, who had near- 
ly become incap?tble of supporting Lady Staunton. 

" No, no," she exclaimed, inaccessible to superna- 
tural terrors, and restored to the presence of mind of 
whicli she had been deprived by the danger of her si- 
tuation, " it is a man — for God's sake, my friend, 
help us !" 

The face glared at them, but made no answer 5 in 
a second or two afterwards, another, that of a young 
lad, appeared beside the first, equally swart and be- 
grimed, but having tangled black hair, descending in 
elf locks, which gave an air of wildness and ferocity 
to the whole expression of the countenance. Lady 
Staunton repeated her entreaties, clinging to the rock 
with more energy, as she found that from the super- 
stitious terror of her guide he became incapable of 
supporting her. Her words were probably drowned 
in the roar of the falling stream, for, though she ob- 
served the lips of the younger being whom she sup- 
plicated move as he spoke in reply, not a word reach- 
ed her ear. 

A moment afterwards it appeared he had not mis- 
taken the nature of her supplication, whicli, indeed, 
was easy to be understood from her situation and 



146 Tales of My Landlord, 

gestures. The younger apparition disappeared, and 
immediately after lowered a ladder of twisted osiers, 
about eight feet in length, and made signs to David 
to hold it fast while the lady ascended. Despair 
gives courage, and finding herself in this fearful pre- 
dicament. Lady Staunton did not hesitate to risk the 
ascent by the precarious means which this accommo- 
dation afforded ; and, carefully assisted by the per- 
son who had thus providentially come to her aid, she 
reached the summit in safety. She did not, however, 
even look around her until she saw her nephew light- 
ly and actively follow her example, although there 
was now no one to hold the ladder fast. When she 
saw him safe she looked round, and could not help 
shuddering at the place and company in which she 
found herself, / 

They were on a sort of platform of rock, surround- 
ed on every side by precipices, or overhanging cliffs, 
and which it would have been scarce possible for any 
research to have discovered, as it did not seem to be 
commanded by any accessible position. It w^as part- 
ly covered by a huge fragment of stone, which, hav- 
ing fallen from the cliffs above, had been intercepted 
by others in its descent, and jammed so as to serve 
for a sloping roof to the further part of the broad 
shelf or platform on which they stood. A quantity 
of withered moss and leaves, strewed beneath this 
rude and wretched shelter, shewed the lairs, — they 
could not be termed the beds, — of those who dwelt in 
this eyrie, for it deserved no other name. Of these, two 
were before Lady Staunton. One, the same who had 
afforded such timely assistance, stood upright before 
them, a tall, lathy, young savage ; his dress a tatter- 
ed plaid and philabeg, no shoes, no stockings, no hat 
or bonnet, the place of the last being supplied by his 
hair twisted and matted like the glibbe of the ancient 
wild Irish, and, like theirs, forming a natural thick- 
set, stout enough to bear off the cut of a sword. Yet 
the eyes of the lad were keen and sparkling $ his ges- 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian, 147 

ture free and noble, like that of all savages. He took 
little notice of David Butler, but gazed with wonder 
on Lady Staunton, as a being different probably in 
dress, and. superior in beauty, to any thing be liad 
ever belield. The old man, wMiose face they had fsrst 
seen, remained recumbent in the same posture as 
when he had first looked down on them, on]y his face 
was turned towards them as he lay and looked up 
with a lazy and listless apathy, which belied the ge- 
neral expression of his dark and rugged features. 
He seemed a very tall man, but was scai»ce better 
clad than tlie younger. He had on a loose Lowland 
l^reat coat, and ragged tartan trews or pantaloons. 

All around looked singularly wild and unpropi- 
tious. Beneath the brow of tlie incumbent rock was 
a cliarcoal fire, on which there was a still working, 
with bellows, pincers, hammers, a moveable anvil, 
and other smith's tools ; three guns, witli two or three 
sacks and barrels, were disposed against the wall of 
rock, under shelter of the superincumbent crag; a 
dirk and two swords, and a Lochaber-axe, lay scat- 
tered around tlie fire, of which the red glare cast a 
ruddy tinge on the precipitous foam and mist of the 
cascade. The lad, when he liad satisfied his curiosity 
with staring at Lady Staunton, fetched an earthen 
jar and a horn cup, into which he poured some spi- 
rits, apparently hot from tlie still, and offered them 
successively to the lady and to the boy. Both de- 
clined, and the young savage quaffed off the draught, 
wliich could not amount to less than three ordinary 
glasses. He then fetched anotlier ladder from the 
corner of the cavern, if it could be termed so, adjust- 
ed it against the transverse rock, which served as a 
roof, and made signs for the lady to ascend it while 
he held it fast below. She did so, and found herself 
on the top of a broad rock, near tlve brink of the 
chasm into which tiie brook precipitates itself. She 
could see the crest of the torrent flung loose down 
the rock like tlie mane of a wild horse, but without 
vox. IV. 14 



148 Tales of My Landlord, 

liaving any view of the lower platform from which 
she had ascended. 

David was not suffered to mount so easily ; the 
lad, from sport or love of mischief, shook tlie ladder 
a good deal as he ascended, and seemed to enjoy the 
terror of young Butler, so that, when they had hoth 
come up, they looked on each other with no friendly 
eyes. Neither, however, spoke. The young caird, 
or tinker, or gypsey, with a good deal of attention, 
assisted Lady Staunton up a very perilous ascent, 
which she had still to encounter, and they were fol- 
lowed by David Butler, until all three stood clear of 
the ravine on the side of a mountain, whose sides 
were covered with heather and sheets of loose shin- 
gle. So narrow was the chasm out of which they 
ascended, that, unless when they were on the very 
verge, the eye passed to the other side, without per- 
ceiving tlie existence of a rent so fearful, and nothing 
was seen of the cataract, though its deep hoarse voice 
was still heard. 

Lady Staunton, freed from the danger of rock and 
river, had now a new subject of anxiety. Her two 
guides confronted each other with angry countenan- 
ces ; for David, though younger by two years at least, 
and much shorter, was a stout, well-set, and very 
hold boy. 

*< You are the black-coat's son of Knocktarlitie,'* 
said the young caird ; " if you come here again, I'll 
pitch you down the linn like a foot-ball." 

<< Ay, lad, ye are very short to be sae lang,'^ re- 
torted young Butler undauntedly, and measurijig his 
opponent's height with an undismayed eye ; << I am 
thinking you are a gillie of Black i)onac]ia ; if you 
come down the glen, we'll shoot you like a wild 
buck." 

" l"()u may tell your father," said the lad, " that 
the leaf on the timber is the last he shall see — we 
will hae amends for the mischief he has done to us." 

** I hope he will live to see mony simmers, and do 
ye muckle mair," answered David. . 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 149 

More might have passed, hut Lady Staunton step- 
ped between them with her purse in her hand, and, 
taking out a guinea, of which it contained several, 
visible through the net-work, as well as some silver 
in the opposite end, offered it to the caird. 

" The white siller, lady — the white siller," said 
the young savage, to whom the value of gold was 
probably unknown. 

Lady Staunton poured what silver she had into his 
hand, and the juvenile savage snatched it greedily, 
and made a sort of half inclination of acknowledg- 
ment and adieu. 

*• Let us make haste now. Lady Staunton," said 
David, «<for there will be little peace with them 
since they hae seen your purse." 

They hurried on as fast as they could i hut they 
had not descended tlie hill a hundred yards or two, 
before they heard a halloo behind them, and looking 
back, saw both the old man and the young one pur- 
suing them with great speed, the former with a gun 
on his shoulder. Very fortunately, at this moment 
a sportsman, a game-keeper of the Duke, who was 
engaged in stalking deer, appeared on the face of the 
hill. The bandits stopped on seeing him, and Lady 
Staunton hastened to put herself under his protection. 
He readily gave them his escort home, and it requir- 
ed hi^ athletic form and loaded rifle to restore to the 
lady her usual confidence and courage. 

Donald listened with much gravity to the account 
of their adventure ; and answered with great com- 
posure to David's repeated inquiries, whether he 
could have suspected that tlie cairds had been lurk- 
ing there : " Inteed, Master Tavie, I might hae had 
some guess that they were there, or thereabout, tliough 
maybe I had nane. But I am aften on the hill ; and 
they are like wasps — ^they stang only them that fash- 
es them ; sae, for my part, I make a point not to see 
them, unless I were ordered out on the preceese er- 
rand by MacCallummore or Knockdunder, whilk is 
a clean different case." 



150 Tales of My Landlord, 

They reached the Manse late ; and Lady Staun- 
ton, who had suffered much both from fright and fa- 
tigue, never suffered her love of the picturesque to 
carry her so far among the mountains witliout a 
stronger escort than David, though she acknowledg- 
ed he had won the stand of colours by the intrepidity 
he had displayed, so soon as assured he had to do 
with an earthly antagonist. " I couldna, maybe, hae 
made muckle o' a bargain wi' yon lang callant," said 
David, when thus complimented on his valour^ "but 
when ye deal wi' thae folk, it's tyne heart tyne a'." 



CHAPTER XIV. 



What see you there, 



That hath so cowarded and chased your blood 
Out of appearance ? 

Heiv^if the Fifth. 

WE are under the necessity of returning to Edin^ 
burgh, where the General Assembly was now sit- 
ting. It is well known, that some Scottish nobleman 
is usually deputed as High Commissioner, to repre- 
sent the person of the King in this convocation ; that 
he has allowances for the purpose of maintaining a 
certain outward show and solemnity, and supporting 
the hospitality of the representative of Mfxjesty. 
Whoever is distinguished by rank, or office, in or 
near the capital, usually attend the morning levees 
of the Lord Commissioner, and walk with him in 
procession to the place where the Assembly meets. 

The nobleman who held this office chanced to be 
particularly connected with Sir George Staunton, 
and it was in his train that he ventured to tread the 
High-Street of Edinburgh for the first time since the 
fatal night of Porteous's execution. Walking at the 
riglit-hand of the representative of Sovereignty, co- 
vered with lace and embroidery, and with all the 
paraphai'nalia of wealth and rank, the handsome 
though wasted form of the English stranger attract- 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. 151 

ed all eyes. Who could have recognized in a form 
so aristocratic the plebeian convict, that, disguised 
jn the rags of Madge Wildfire, had led the formida- 
ble rioters to their destined revenge ! There was no 
possibility that this could happen, even if any of his 
ancient acquaintances, a race of men whose lives are 
so brief, had happened to survive the span commonly 
allotted to evil doers. Besides, the whole affair had 
long fallen asleep, with the angry passions in which 
it originated. Notliing is more certain than that per- 
sons known to have had a share in that formidable 
riot, and to have fled from Scotland on that account, 
had made money abroad, returned to enjoy it in their 
native country, and lived and died undisturbed by the 
law.* The forbearance of the magistrate was in 
these instances wise, certainly, and just ; for what 
good impression could be made on the public mind 
by punishment, wlien the memory of the offence was 
obliterated, and all tliat was remembered was the re- 
cent inoffensive, or perhaps exemplary conduct of the 
sufferer ? 

Sir George Staunton might, therefore, tread the 
scene of his former audacious exploits, free from the 
apprehension of the law, or even of discovery or sus- 
picion. But with what feelings his heart that day 
throbbed, must be left to those of the reader to ima- 
gine. It was an object of no common interest which 
had brought him to encounter so many painful re- 
membrances. 

In consequence of Jeanie's letter to Lady Staun- 
ton, transmitting the confession, he had visited the 
town of Carlisle, and had found Archdeacon Fleming 
still alive, by whom that confession had been receiv- 
ed. This reverend gentleman, whose character stood 
deservedly very high, he so far admitted into his con- 
iidence, as to own himself the father of the unfortu- 
nate infant wliich had been spirited away by Madge 
Wildfire, representing the intrigue as a matter of ju- 

* See Arnot's Criminal Trials, 4to ed. p. 235. 
14* 



15a Tales of My LandlonL 

veiiile extravagance on his own part, for wliich he 
was now anxious to atone, hy tracing, if possihle^, 
what had hecome of the cliild. After some recollec- 
tion of the circumstances, the clergyman was able to 
call to memory, that the unliappy woman had written 
a letter to George Staunton, Esq. younger. Rectory, 
Willingham, by Grantham ; that he had forwarded 
it to the address accordingly, and that it had been re- 
turned, with a note from the Reverend Mr. Staunton, 
Rector of Willingham, saying, he knew no such per- 
son as him to whom the letter was addressed. As this 
liad liappened just at the time when George had, for 
the last time, absconded from his father's house to^ 
cari'y off Effie, he was at no loss to account for the 
cause elf the resentment, under the influence of which 
his father had disowned him. This was another in- 
stance in which his ungovernable temper liad occa- 
sioned his misfortune ; had he remained at Willing- 
ham but a few days longer, he would have received 
Margai^et Murdockson's letter, in which was exactly 
described the person and haunts of the woman, Ann- 
aple Bailzou, to whom she had parted with the in- 
fant. It appeared that Meg Mui'dockson had been 
induced to make this confession, less from any feel- 
ings of contrition, than from the desire of obtaining, 
through George Staunton or his father's means, pro- 
tection and support for her daughter Madge. Her 
letter to George Staunton said, •* That, while the 
writer lived, her daughter would have needed nought 
from any body, and that she would never have med- 
dled in tliese affairs, except to pay back the ill that 
George had done to her and hers. But she was to 
die, and her daughter would be destitute, and without 
reason to guide her. She had lived in the world long 
enough to know that people did nothing for nothing ; 
— so she had told George Staunton all he could wish 
to know about his wean, in hopes he would not see 
the demented young creature he had ruined perish 
for want. As for her motives for not telling them 
sooner, she had a long account to reckon for in the 
next world, and she would reckon for that too." 



The Heart of Mid'Lothian. 153 

The clergyman said, that Meg had died in the same 
desperate state of mind, occasionally expressing some 
regret ahout the child wiiich was lost, but oftener 
sorrow that tlie mother had not been hanged — her 
mind at once a chaos of guilt, rage, and apprehension 
for her daughter's future safety ; — that instinctive 
feeling of parental anxiety which she had in common 
with tlie she-wolf and lioness, being the last shade of 
kindly affection that occupied a breast equally savage. 

The melancholy catastrophe of Madge Wildfire 
was occasioned by her taking the confusion of her 
mother's execution, as affording an opportunity of 
leaving the work-house to which the clergyman had 
sent her, and presenting herself to the mob in their 
fury, to perish in the way we have already seen. 
When Dr. Fleming found the convict's letter was re- 
turned from Lincolnshire, he wrote to a friend in 
Edinburgh, to inquire into the fate of the unfortunate 
girl whose child had been stolen, and was infoimed 
by his correspondent, that she had, been pardoned, 
and til at, with all her family, she hatl retired to some 
distant part of Scotland, or left the kingdom entire- 
ly. And here the matter rested, until, at Sir George 
Staunton's application, the clergyman looked out, and 
produced Margaret Murdockson's returned letter, 
and the other memoranda which he had kept concern- 
ing the affair. 

Whatever might be Sir George Staunton's feelings 
in ripping up this miserable history, and listening to 
the tragical fate of the unhappy girl whom he had 
ruined, he had so much of his ancient wilfulness of 
disposition left, as to shut his eyes on every thing, 
save the prospect that seemed to open itself of reco- 
vering his son. It was true it would be difficult to 
produce him, without telling much more of the histo- 
ry of hfe birth, and the misfortunes of his ])arents, 
ban it was prudent to make known. But let him 
once be found, and, being found, let him but prove 
worthy of his father's protection, and many ways 
might be fallen upoft to avoid such risk. Sir George 



1 54 Talis of Mij Landlord, 

Staunton was at liberty to adopt him as liis lieir, if 
lie pleased, without communicating tlie secret of his 
birth ; or an act of parliament might be obtained^ 
declaring him legitimate, and allowing liim the name 
and arms of his father. He was, indeed, already a 
legitimate child according to the law of Scotland, by 
the subsequent marriage of his parents. Wilful in 
every thing. Sir George's sole desire now was to see 
this son, even should his recovery bring with it a 
new series of misfortunes, as dreadful as those which 
followed on his being lost. 

But where was the youth who might eventually be 
called to the honours and estates of this ancient 
family ? On what heath was he wandering, and- 
shrouded by what mean disguise ? Did he gain his pre- 
carious bread by some petty trade, by menial toil, by 
violence, or by theft ? These were questions on which 
Sir George's anxious investigations could obtain no 
liglit. Many remembered that Annaple Bailzou wan- 
dered through the country as a beggar and fortune- 
teller, or spae-wife — some remembered that she had 
been seen with an infant in 1737 or 1738, but for 
more than ten years, she had not travelled that dis- 
trict ; and tliat slie had been heard to say she was 
going to a distant part of Scotland, of which country 
she was a native. To Scotland, therefore, came Sir 
George Staunton, having parted with his lady at 
Glasgow, and his arrival at Edinburgh happening to 
coincide with the sitting of the General Assembly of 
the Kirk, his acquaintance with the nobleman who 
held the office of Lord High Commissioner forced 
him more into public than suited either his views or 
inclinations. 

At the public table of this nobleman. Sir George 
Staunton was placed next to a clergyman of respec- 
table appearance, and well-bred, though pfain de- 
meanour, whose name he discovered to be Butler. It 
had been no part of Sir George's plan to take his 
brother-in-law into his confidence, and he had rejoic- 
ed exceedingly in the assurances he received from his 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 155 

wife, that Mrs Butler, the very soul of integrity and 
honour, had never suffered the account he had given 
of himself at Willingliam Rectory to transpire, even 
to her husband. Hut he was not sorry to have an op- 
portunity to converse with so near a connection, 
without being known to hini, and to form a judgment 
of his character and understanding. He saw much, 
and heard more, to raise Butler very higli in his opi- 
nion. He found he was generally respected by those 
of his own profession, as well as by ttse laity who had 
seats in the Assembly. He had made several' public 
appearances in the Assembly, distinguished by good 
sense, candour, and ability ; and he was followed and 
admired as a sound, and, at the same time, an elo- 
quent preacher. 

This was all very satisfactory to Sir George Staun- 
ton's pride, which had revolted at the idea of his 
wife's sister being obscurely married. He now be- 
gan, on the contrary, to think the connection so much 
better than he expected, that, if it should be necessa- 
ry to acknowledge it, in consequence of the recovery 
of his son, it would sound well enough that Lady 
Staunton had a sister, \yho, in the decayed state of 
the family, had married a Scottish clergyman, high 
in the opinion of his countrymen, and a leader in the 
church. 

It was with these feelings, that, when the Lord 
High Commissioner's company broke up, Sir George 
Staunton, under preter»ce of prolonging some inqui- 
ries concerning the constitution of the Church of 
Scotland, requested Butler to go home to his lodg- 
ings in the Law^n-Market, and drink a cup of coffee.^ 
Butler agreed to wait upon him, providing Sir George 
would permit him, in passing, to call at a friend's 
house where he resided, and make his apology for 
not coming to partake her tea. They proceeded up 
the High-Street, entered the Krames, and passed the 
begging-box, placed to remind those at liberty of the 
distresses of the poor prisoners. Sir George paused 
there one instant, and next day a 20/. note was found 
in that receptacle for public charity. 



156 Tales of My Landlord, 

When lie came up to Butler again, he found him 
witli his eyes fixed on tlie entrance of the Tolbooth, 
and apparently in deep thought. 

<« That seems a very strong door," said Sir 
George, by way of saying something. 

♦' It is so. Sir," said Butler, turning off and begin- 
ning to walk forward, <* but it was my misfortune at 
one time to see it prove greatly too weak." 

At this moment, looking at his companion, he ask- 
ecThim whether he felt himself ill, and Sir George 
Staunton admitted, that he had been so foolish as to 
eat ice, which sometimes disagreed witli him. With 
kind officiousness, that would not be gainsayed, and 
ere he could find out where he was going, Butler hur- 
ried Sir George into the friend's house, near to the 
prison, in which he himself had lived since he came 
to town, being indeed no other than that of our old 
fpiend Bartholine Saddletree, in which Lady Staun- 
ton had served a short noviciate as a shop-maid. This 
recollection rushed on her husband's mind, and the 
blush of shame which it excited overpowered the 
sensation of fear which had produced his former 
paleness. Good Mrs. Saddletree, however, bustled 
about to receive the rich English baronet as the 
friend of Mr. Butler, and requested an elderly female 
in a black gown to sit still, in a way which seemed 
to imply a wish, that she would clear the way for 
her betters. In the meanwhile, understanding the 
state of the case, she ran to get some cordial waters, 
sovereign, of course, in all cases of faintishness what- 
soever. During her absence, her visiter, the female 
in Uack, made some progress out of the room, and 
might have left it altogether, had she not stumbled at 
the thresh -Jd, so near Sir George Staunton, that he, 
in point of civility, raised her and assisted her to the 
door. 

<* Mrs. Porteous is turned very doited now, puir 
body," said Mrs. Saddletree, as she returned with 
her bottle in her hand — '* She is no sae auld, but she 
got a sair back-cast wi' the slaughter o' her husband 
-—Ye had some trouble about that job, Mr. Butler. 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 157 

— I think, Sir," to Sir George, « ye had better drink 
out the haiil glass, for to my een ye look waur than 
when ye came in." 

And indeed he grew as pale as a corpse, on recol- 
lecting who it was that his arm had so lately sup- 
ported — the widow whom he had so large a sliare in 
making such. 

<* It is a prescribed job that case of Porteous now,'* 
said old Saddletree, who was confined in his chair by 
the gout — " clean presciibed and out of date." 

" I am not clear of that, neighbour," said Plum- 
damus, " for I have heard them say twenty years 
should rin, and this is but the fifty-ane — Porteous's 
mob was in thretty -seven." 

** Ye'll no teach me law, I think, neighbour — me 
that has four gaun pleas, and niiglit hae had four- 
teen, an it hadna been the gudewife. I tell ye if the 
foremost of the Porteous-mob were standing there 
where tliat gentleman stands, the King's Advocate 
wadna meddle wi' him — it fa's under the negative 
prescription." 

" Hand your din, carles," said Mrs. Saddletree, 
'* and let the gentleman sit down and get a dish of tea." 
But Sir George had had quite enough of their con- 
versation ; and Butler, at his request, made an apo- 
logy to Mrs. Saddletree, and accompanied him to his 
lodgings. Here they found another guest waiting Sir 
George Staunton's return. This was no other than 
our reader's old acquaintance Ratcliffe. 

This man had exercised the office of turnkey with 
so much vigilance, acuteness, and fidelity, that he 
gradually rose to be governor, or captain of the Tol- 
bootli. And it is yet remembered in tradition, that 
young men, who rather sought amusing than select 
society in their merry meetings, used sometimes to 
request RatclifFe's company, in order that he might 
regale them with legends of his extraordinary feats 
in the way of robbery and escape.* But he lived and 

* There seems an anachronism hi the history of this person. Rat- 
cliffe, among' other escapes from justice, was released by the Por- 
teous-mob when under sentence of death. And he was again un* 



15& Tales of My Landlord, 

died without resumiiij^ his original vocation, other- 
wise than in his narratives over a bottle. 

Under these circumstances, he had been recom- 
mended to Sir George Staunton by a man of the law 
in Edinburgh, as a person likely to answer any ques- 
tions he might have to ask about Annaple Bailzou, 
who, according to the colour v. Iiich Sir George Staun- 
ton gave to his cause of inquiry, was supposed to have 
stolen a child in the west of England, belonging to 
a family in which he was interested. The gentle- 
man had not mentioned his naojc, but only his offi- 
cial title ; so that Sir George Staunton, when told 
that tbe captain of tbe Tolbootb was waiting for him 
in his parlour, had no idea of meeting his former ac- 
quaintance Jem Ratclifle. 

This, therefore, was another new and most unplea- 
sant surprise, for he had no difficulty in recollecting 
this man's remarkable features.. The change, how- 
ever, from George Robertson to Sir George Staun- 
ton, baffled even the penetration of RatclifFe, and he 
bowed very low to the baronet and his guest, hoping 
Mr. Butler would excuse his recollecting that he was 
an old acquaintance. 

" And once rendered my wife a piece of great ser- 
vice," said Mr. Butler, " for which she sent you a 
token of grateful acknowledgment, which I hope came 
safe and was welcome." 

« De'il a doubt on't," said Ratcliffe, with a know- 
ing nod ; *•' but ye are muckle changed for the better 
since I saw ye, Maister Butler." 

<• So much so, that I wonder you knew me." 

*' Aha, then, ! — De'il a face I see I ever forget," 
said Ratcliffe; while Sir George Staunton, tied to 
the stake, and incapable of escaping, internally curs- 
ed the accuracy of his memory. <« And yet, some- 
times," continued RatclifFe, " the sharpest hand Avill 
be ta'en in. There is a face in this very room, if I 

der the same predicament when the Hig-hlanders made a similar 
jail delivery in 1745. fie was too sincere a whlg^ to embrace liber- 
ation at the hands of the jacobiies, and in reward was made one of 
the keepers of the Tolbooth. So at least runs a constant tradition. 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 159 

mig'ht presume to be sae baulil, that if I didna ken 
the lioiiourable person it belangs to — I might think it 
had some cast of an auld acquaintance." 

<* I should not be much flattered," answered the 
Baronet sternly, and roused by the risk in which he 
saw himself placed, " if it is to me you mean to ap- 
ply that compliment." 

" By no manner of means. Sir," said Ratcliffe, 
bowing very low ; " I am come to receive your ho- 
nour's commands, and no to trouble your honour wi' 
my poor observations." 

" Well, Sir," said Sir George, <« I am told you un- 
derstand police matters — So do I. — To convince you 
of which, here are ten guineas of retaining fee — I 
make them fifty when you can find me certain notice 
of a person, living or dead, whom you will find de- 
scribed in tliat paper. — I shall leave town presently 
—you may send your written answer to me to the 

care of Mr. , (naming his highly respectable 

agent,) " or of his Grace the Lord High Commis- 
sioner." RatclifFe bowed and withdrew. 

^* I have angered the proud peat now," he said to 
himself, << by finding out a likeness — but if George 
Robertson's father had lived within a mile of his mo- 
ther, d — n me if I should not know what to think, for 
as high as he carries his head." 

When he was left alone with Butler, Sir George 
Staunton ordered tea and coffee, which were brought 
by his valet, and then, after considering with him- 
self for a minute, asked his guest whether he had 
lately heard from his wife and family. Butler, with 
some surprise at the question, replied, " that he liad 
received no letter for some time ; his wife \vas apoor 
pen-woman." 

" Tlien," said Sir George Staunton, " I am tJic 
first to inform you there has been an invasion of your 
quiet premises since you left home. My wife, whom 
the Diike of Argylc had the goodness to permit to 
use Roseneatli-Lodge, while slie Avas spending some 
weeks in your country, has sallied across and taken 
vol. IV. 15 



1 60 Tales of My Landlord, 

up her quarters in the Manse, as she says, to he 
nearer the goats, whose milk she is using ; but I be- 
lieve, in reality, because she prefers Mrs. Butler's 
company to that of the respectable gentleman who 
acts as seneschal on the Duke's domains." 

Mr. Butler " had often heard the late Duke and 
the present speak with high respect of Lady Staun- 
ton, and was happy if his house could accommodate 
any friend of theirs — it would be but a very slight 
acknowledgment of the many favours he owed them." 

<* That does not make Lady Staunton and myself 
the less obliged to your hospitality. Sir," said Sir 
George. <* May I inquire if you think of returning 
home soon ?" 

*< In the course of two days," Mr. Butler said, 
•* his duty in the Assembly would be ended ; and the 
other matters he had in town being all iinished, he 
was desirous of returning to Dumbartonshire as soon 
as he could — but he was under the necessity of trans- 
porting a considerable sum in bills and money with 
him, and therefore wished to travel in company with 
one or two of his brethren of the clergy." 

*' My escort will be more safe," said Sir George 
Staunton, " and I think of setting off to-morrow or 
next day. — -If you will give me the pleasure of your 
company I will undertake to deliver you and your 
charge safe at the Manse, provided you will admit 
me along with you." 

Mr. Butler gratefully accepted of this proposal ; 
the appointment was made accordingly, and by des- 
patches with one of Sir George's servants, who was 
sent forward for the purpose, the inhabitants of the 
Manse of Knocktarlitie were made acquainted with 
the intended journey ; and the news rung through 
the whole vicinity, *^ tliat the minister was coming 
back wi' a braw English gentleman, and a' the siller 
that was to pay for the estate of Craigsture." 

Tliis sudden resolution of going to Knocktarlitie 
had been adopted by Sir George Staunton, in conse- 
quence of the incidents of the evening. In spite of 
his present consequence, he felt he had presumed too 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 161 

far in venturing so near the scene of his former au- 
dacious acts of violence, and he knew, from past ex- 
perience, the acuteness of a man like RatclifFe, too 
well again to encounter him. The next two days he 
kept his lodgings, under pretence of indisposition, 
and took leave, by writing, of his noble friend, the 
High Commissioner, alleging the opportunity of Mr. 
Butler's company as a reason for leaving Edinburgh 
sooner than he had proposed. He had a long con- 
ference with his agent on the subject of Annaple 
Bailzou ; and the professional gentleman, who was 
the agent also of the Argyle family, had directions to 
collect all the information which Ratcliife or others 
might be able to ohtain concerning the fate of that 
woman and the unfortunate child, and, so soon as 
any thing transpired which had the least appearaiice 
of being important, that he should send an express with 
it instantly to Knocktarlitie. These instructions were 
backed with a deposit of money, and a request that 
110 expense might be spared ; so that Sir George 
Staunton had little reason to apprehend negligence 
on the part of the porsono entrusted Avith the com- 
mission. 

The journey, which the brothers made in compa- 
ny, was attended with more pleasure, even to Sir 
George Staunton, than he had ventured to expect. 
His heart lightened in spite of himself when they lost 
sight of Edinburgh ; and the easy, sensible conver- 
sation of Butler was well calculated to withdraw his 
thoughts from painful reflections. He even began to 
think whether there could be much difliculty in re- 
moving his wife's connections to the Rectory of Wil- 
lingham; it was only 'on his part procuring some 
still better preferment for the present incumbent, and 
on Butler's, that he should take orders according to 
the English church, to which he could not conceive a 
possibility of his making objection, and then he had 
them residing under his wing. No doubt there was 
pain in seeing Mrs. Butler, acquainted, as he knew 
her to be, with the full truth of his evil history — But 
then her silence^ though he had no reason to com- 



162 Tales of My Landlord* 

plain of her indiscretion hitherto, was still more ab- 
solutely ensured. It would keep his lady, also, both 
in good temper and in more subjection, for she was 
sometimes troublesome to him, by insisting on re- 
maining in town when he desired to retire to the 
country, alleging the total want of society at Wil- 
jingham. ** Madam, your sister is there," would, 
he thought, be a sufficient answer to this ready argu- 
ment. 

He sounded Butler on this subject, asking what he 
w^ould think of an English living of twelve hundred 
pounds yearly, with the burtlien of affording his com- 
pany now and then to a neigJibour, wliose liealth was 
not strong, or his spirits equal. ** He miglit meet," 
he said, " occasionally, a very learned and accom- 
plished gentleman, who was in orders as a Catholic 
priest, but he hoped th.at would be no insurmountable 
objection to a man of his liberality of sentiment* 
" What," he said, " would Mr. Butler think of as an 
answer, if the offer should be made to him ?" 

" Simply that I could not accept of it," said Mr. 
Butler. ** I have no mind to enter into the various 
debates between the churches ; but I was brought up 
in mine own, have received her ordination, am satis- 
fied of the truth of her doctrines, and will die under 
the banner I have enlisted to." 

"What may be the value of. your preferment?" 
said Sir George Staunton, <* unless I am asking an 
^ indiscreet question." 
fl^/y " Probably one hundred a-year. on e year with an- 
(/ a other, besides^my glebe and pasture-ground." 
/U*'* ^^ And you scruple to exchange that for twelve 
hundred a-year, without alle^ng any damning differ- 
ence of doctrine betwixt the two churches of England 
and Scotland ?" 

<« On that, sir, I have reserved my judgment ; there 
may be much good, and there are certainly saving 
means in both, but every man must act according to 
his own lights. I hope I have done, and am in the 
course of doing, my Master's work in this Highland 
parish 5 and it would ill become rae, for the sake of 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 163 

lucre, to leave my sheep in the wilderness. But, even 
in the temporal view wliicli you have taken of the 
matter. Sir George, this lumdred pounds a-year of 
stipend hath fed and clothed us, and left us nothing 
to wish for ; my father-in-law's succession, and other 
circumstances, have added a small estate of ahout 
twice as much more, and how we are to dispose of it 
I do not know — So I leave it to you, sir, to think if 
I were wise, not having' the wish or opportunity of 
spending three hundred a-year, to covet the posses- 
sion of four times that sum." 

« This is philosophy," said Sir George ; << I have 
heard of it, hut I never saw it before." 

" It is common sense," replied Butler, " which 
accords with philosophy and religion more frequently 
than pedants or zealots are apt to admit." 

Sir George turned the subject, and did not again 
resume it. Although tliey travelled in Sir George's 
chariot, he seemed so much fatigued with the motion, 
that it was necessary for him to remain for a day at 
a small town called Mid-Calder, which was their first 
stage from Edinburgh. Glasgow occupied another 
day, so slow were their motions. 

They travelled on to Dumbarton, where they had 
resolved to leave the equipage, and to hire a boat to 
take them to tlie shores near the Manse, as the Gare- 
Loch lay betwixt them and that point, besides the 
impossibility of travelling in that district witli wheel- 
carriages. Sir George's valet, a man of trust, ac- 
companied them, as also a footman ; the grooms were 
left with the carriage. Just as this arrangement was 
completed, which was about four o'clock in the after- 
noon, an express arrived from Sir George's agent in 
Edinburgh, with a packet, which he opened and read 
with great attention, appearing much interested and 
agitated by the contents. The packet had been des- 
patched very soon after their leaving Edinburgh, but 
the messenger had missed the travellers by passing 
through Mid-Calder in the night, and over-shot his 
errand by getting to Roseneath before them. He was 
15=^ 



164 Tales of My Landlord, 

now on his return, after having waited more than 
four-and-twenty hours. Sir George Staunton instant- 
ly wrote back an answer, and rewarding the messen- 
ger liberally, desired him not to sleep till he placed 
it in his agent's hands. 

At length they embarked in the boat, which had 
waited for them some time. During their voyage, 
which was slow, for they were obliged to row the 
whole vt^ay, and often against the tide. Sir George 
Staunton's inquiries ran chiefly on the subject of the 
Highland banditti who had infested that country since 
the year 1745. Butler informed him that many of 
them were not native Highlanders, but gypsies, tin- 
kers, and other men of desperate fortunes, who had 
taken advantage of the confusion introduced by the 
civil war, the general discontent of the mountaineers, 
and the unsettled state of police, to practise their 
plundering trade with more audacity. Sir George 
next inquired into their lives, their habits, whether 
the violences which they committed were not some- 
times atoned for by acts of generosity, and whether 
they did not possess the virtues, as well as the vices, 
of savage tribes ? 

Butler answered, tliat certainly they did sometimes 
show sparks of generosity, of Avliich even the worst 
class of malefactors are seldom utterly divested ; but 
that their evil propensities were certain and regular 
principles of action, while any occasional burst of 
virtuous feeling v as only a transient impulse not to 
be reckoned upon, and excited probably by some sin- 
gular and unusual concatenation of circumstances. 
In discussing these inquiries, which Sir George pur- 
sued with an apparent eagerness that rather sur- 
prised Butler, the latter chanced to mention the 
name of Donacha Dhu na Dunaigh, with which the 
reader is already acquainted. Sir George caught the 
sound up eagerly, and as if it conveyed particular 
interest to his ear. He made the most minute in- 
quiries concerning the man whom he mentioned, the 
number of his gang, and even the appearance of those 
who belonged to it. Upon these points Butler could 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. 165 

give little answer. The man had a name among the 
lower class, but his exploits were considerably exag- 
gerated ; he had always one or two fellows with him, 
but never aspired to the command of above three or 
four. In short, he knew little about him, and the 
small acquaintance he had, had by no means inclined 
him to desire more. 

<< Nevertheless, I should like to see him some of 
these days." 

" That would be a dangerous meeting, Sir George, 
unless }'ou mean we are to see him receive his deserts 
from tlie law, and then it were a melancholy one." 

" Use every man according to his deserts, Mr. 
Butler, and who shall escape whipping ? But I am 
talking riddles to you. I will explain tliem more fully 
to you when I have spoken over the subject with Lady 
Staunton. — Pull away, my lads," he added, address- 
ing himself to the rowers ; " the clouds threaten us 
with a storm." 

In fact, the dead and heavy closeness of the air, 
the huge piles of clouds which assembled in the west- 
ern horizon, and glowed like a furnace under the in- 
fluence of the setting sun — that awful stillness in 
which nature seems to expect the thunder-burst, as a 
condemned soldier waits for the pI«atoon-fire which is 
to stretch him on the earth, all betokened a speedy 
storm. Large broad drops fell from time to time, 
and induced the gentlemen to assume the boat-cloaks ; 
but tlie rain again ceased, and the oppressive heat, so 
unusual in Scotland in the end of May, inclined them 
to throw them aside. << There is something solemn in 
this delay of tlie storm," said Sir George ; " it seems 
as if it suspended its peal till it solemnized some im- 
portant event in the world below." 

<* Alas !" replied Butler, " what are we, that the 
laws of nature should correspond in their march with 
our ephemeral deeds or sujfferings ? The clouds will 
burst when surcharged with the electric fluid, whether 
a goat is falling at that instant from the cliffs of Ar- 
ran or a hero expiring on the field of battle he has won." 



166 Tales of My Landlord, 

" T['lie mind delights to deem it otherwise," said 
Sir George Staunton ; <« and to dwell on the fate of 
humanity as on that which is the prime central move- 
ment of the mighty machine. We love not to think 
that we shall mix with the ages that have gone before 
lis, as these broad black rain-drops mingle with the 
waste of waters, making a trifling and momentary 
eddy, and are then lost for ever." 

^' For ever / — we are not — we cannot be lost for 
ever," said Butler, looking upward ; " death is to us 
change, not consummation ; and the commencement 
of a new existence, corresponding in character to the 
deeds which we have done in the body." 

While they agitated these grave subjects, to which 
the solemnity of the approaching storm naturally led 
them, their voyage threatened to be more tedious than 
they had expected, for gusts of wind, which rose and 
fell with sudden impetuosity, swept the bosom of the 
Firth, and impeded the efforts of the rowers. They 
had now only to double a small head-land, in order 
to get to the proper landing-place in the mouth of the 
small river ,• but in the state of the weather, and the 
boat being heavy, this was like to be a work of 
time, and in the meanwhile they must necessarily be 
exposed to the storm. 

<* Could we not land on tliis side of the head-land," 
asked Sir George, " and so gain some shelter ?" 

Butler knew of no landing-place, at least none af- 
fording a convenient or even practicable passage up 
the rocks which surrounded the shore. 

<< Think again," said Sir George Staunton ; " tlie 
storm will soon be violent." 

<* Hout, ay," said one of the boatmen, " there's the 
Caird's Cove ; but we dinna tell the minister about 
it, and I am no sure if I can steer the boat to it, the 
bay is sae fu' o' shoals and sunk rocks." 

*' Try," said Sir George, " and I will give you 
half-a-guinea." 

The old fellow took the helm, and observed, " that 
if they could get in, there was a steep path up from 



The Heart of Mid' Lothian, 167 

the beach, and half-an-hour's walk from thence to the 
Manse." 

« Are you sure you know the way ?'' said Butler to 
the old man. 

<* 1 maybe kenn'd it a wee better fifteen years 
syne, when Dandie Wilson was in the Firth with his 
clean-gangin,!^ lugger. I mind Dandie had a wild 
young Englisher wi' him, that they ca'd " 

" If you chatter so much," said Sir George Staun- 
ton, <« you will have the boat on the Grindstone — 
bring that white rock in a line with the steeple." 

<^ By G ," said the veteran, staring, ^* I think 

your honour kens the bay as weel as me. — Your ho- 
nour's nose has been on the Grindstane ere now, I'm 
thinking." 

As they spoke thus they approached the little cove, 
which, concealed behind crags, and defended on eve- 
ry point by shallows and sunken rocks, could scarce 
be discovered or approached, except by those intimate 
with the navigation. An old shattered boat was alrea- 
dy draw^n up on the beach within the cove, close be- 
neath the trees, and with precautions for concealment. 

Upon observing this vessel, Butler remarked to his 
companion, " It is impossible for you to conceive. Sir 
George, the difficulty I have had with my poor peo- 
ple, in teaclnng them the guilt and the danger of this 
contraband trade — yet they have perpetually before 
their eyes all its dangerous consequences. I do not 
know any thing that more effectually depraves and 
ruins their moral and religious principles." 

Sir George forced himself to say something in a 
low voice, about the spirit of adventure natural to 
youth, and that unquestionably many would become 
wiser as they grew older. 

" Too seldom, sir," replied Butler. « If they have 
been deeply engaged, and especially if they have min- 
gled in the scenes of violence and blood to which their 
occupation naturally leads, I have observed, that, 
sooner or later, they come to an evil end. Experi- 
ence, as well as Scripture, teaches us. Sir George, 



% 



168 Tales of My Landloi'd, 

that mischief shall hunt the violent man, and that the 
bloodthirsty man shall not live half his days — ^but 
take my arm to help you asliore." 

Sir Georg-e needed assistance, for he was contrast- 
ing in his altered thought the different feelings of 
mind and frame witli which he had formerly frequent- 
ed the same place. As they landed, a low growl of 
thunder was heard at a distance." 

'< That is ominous, Mr. Butler," said Sir George. 

**Intonuit Icevum — it is ominous of good, then," 
answered Butler, smiling. 

The boatmen were ordered to make the best of their 
way round the head-land to the ordinary landing- 
place ; the two gentlemen, followed by the servant, 
sought their way by a blind and tangled path through 
a close copsewood to the Manse of Knocktarlitie, 
where their arrival was anxiously expected. 

The sisters in vain had expected their husbands' 
return on the preceding day, which was that appoint- 
ed by Sir George's letter. The delay of the travel- 
lers at Calder had occasioned this breach of appoint- 
ment. The inhabitants of the Manse began even ta 
doubt whether they would arrive on the present day. 
Lady Staunton felt this hope of delay as a brief re- 
prieve, for she dreaded the pangs which her husband's 
pride must undergo at meeting with a sister-in-law, 
to whom the whole of his unhappy and di ' onourable 
history was too well known. She knew, whatever 
force or constraint he miglit put upon his feelings in 
public, tliat she herself must be doomed to see them 
display themselves in full vehemence in secret, — con- 
sume his health, destroy his temper, and render him 
at once an object of dread and compassion. Again 
and again she cautioned Jeanie to display no tokens 
of recognition, but to receive him as a perfect stran- 
ger, — and again and again Jeanie renewed her pro- 
mise to comply with her wishes. 

Jeanie herself could not fail to bestow an anxious 
thought on the awkwardness of the approaching meet- 
ing ; but her conscience was uncalled-— and then she 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. 169 

M'as cumbered with many houselioid cares of an un- 
usual nature, whicli, joined to tlie anxious wish once 
more to see Butler, after an absence of unusual len.i^th, 
made her extremely desirous tliatthe travellers should 
arrive as soon as possible. And — why should I dis- 
guise the trutli ? — ever and anon a thougiit stole across 
her mind that lier gala dinner had now been post- 
poned for two days ; and how few of the dishes, after 
every art of hei* sim])le cuisine had been exerted to 
dress them, could witli any credit or propriety appear 
again upon the third ; and what was she to do with 
the rest ? — Upon this last subject she was saved the 
trouble of farther delibej'ation, by the sudden appear- 
ance of the Captain, at the head of half-a-dozen stout 
fellows, dressed and armed in tlie Highland fasbion. 

" Goot-morrow morning to ye, Leddy Staunton, 
and I hope I hae the pleasure to see ye weel — And 
goot-morrow to you, goot Mrs. Putler — I do peg you 
will order some victuals and ale and prandy for the 
lads, for we hae peen out on firth and moor since 
afore day-light, and a' to no purpose neither — Cot 
tamn !'' 

So saying, he sate down, pushed back his brigadier 
wig, and wiped his head with an air of easy impor- 
tance; totally regardless of the look of well-bred as- 
tonishment by which Lady Staunton endeavoured to 
make him comprehend that he was assuming too great 
a liberty. 

<« It is some comfort, when one has had a sair tas- 
sell," continued the Captain, addressing Lady Staun- 
ton, with an air of gallantry, " that it is in a fair 
leddy's service, or in the service of a gentleman whilk 
has a fair leddy, whilk is the same thing, since serv- 
ing the husband is serving the wife, as Mrs. Putler 
does very weel know." 

** Really, sir," said Lady Staunton, <« as you seem 
to intend this compliment for me, 1 am at a loss to 
know what interest Sir George or I can have in your 
movements this morning." 

<« Cot tamn ! — this is too cruel, my leddy— as if 
it was not by special express from his Grace's ho- 



17d Tales of Mtj Landlord. 

nourable agent and commissioner at Edinburgh, with 
a warrant conform, that I was to seek for and appre- 
hend Donacha dhu naDunaigh, and pring him pefore 
myself and Sir George Staunton, that he may have 
his deserts, that is to say, the gallows, whilk he has 
doubtless deserved, py peing the means of frightening 
your leddyship, as weel as for something of less im- 
portance.'* 

" Frightening me ?" said her ladyship 5 « Why, I 
never wrote to Sir George about my alarm at the 
water-fall." 

<< Then he must have heard it otherwise ; for what 
else can give him sic an earnest tesire to see tliis rap- 
scallion, that I maun ripe the haill mosses and muirs 
in the country for him, as if I were to get something 
for finding him, when the pest o't might pe a pall 
through my prains ?" 

<* Can it be really true, that it is on Sir George's 
account that you have been attempting to apprehend 
this fellow ?" 

** Py Cot, it is for no other cause that I know than 
his honour's pleasure ; for the creature might hae 
gone on in a decent quiet way for me, sae lang 
as he respectit the Duke's pounds — put reason goot 
he suld be ta'en, and hangit to poot, if it may plea* 
sufe ony honourable shentleman, that is the Duke's 
friend — Sae I got thi^ express over night, and I caus- 
ed warn half a score of pretty lads, and was up in the 
morning pefore the sun, and I garr'd the lads take 
their kilts and short coats." 

<< I wonder you did that. Captain," said Mrs. But- 
ler, *< when you know the act of parliament against 
wearing the Highland dress." 

<< Hout-tout, ne'er fash your thumb, Mrs. Putler— 
The law is put twa-thrce years auld yet, and is ower 
young to hae come our length ; and pesides, how is 
the lads to climb the praes wi' thae tamned breekens 
on them ? — it makes me sick to see them— Put ony 
how, I thought I kenned Donacha's haunts gay and 
weel, au^ I was at the place where he had rested 



The Heart of Mid-Lothiaiu ITi 

yestreen ; for I saw the leaves the limmers had lain 
on, and the ashes of them ; hy the same token there 
was a pit greeshoch piirning yet. I am thinking they 
got some word out o' the island what was intended — 
1 sought every glen and clench, as if I had heen deer- 
stalking, but teil a waff of his coat-tail could I see- 
Cot tamn !" 

*^ He'll be away down the Fritli to Cowal," said 
David; and Reuben, who had. been out early that 
morning a-nutting, observed, << That he Jiad seen a 
boat making for the Caird's Cove," a place well 
known to the boys, though their less adventurous fa- 
ther was ignorant of its existence. 

*^ Py Cot," sail Duncan, " then I will stay here 
no longer than to trink tliis very horn of prandy and 
w^ater, for it is very possible they will pe in the wood. 
Donacha's a clever fellow, and maype thinks it pest 
to sit next the chimley when the lum reeks. He 
thought naebody would look for lilm sae near hand. 
I peg your leddyship will excuse my abrupt departure, 
a^ I will return forthwith, and I will eithei* pring you 
Donacha in life, or else his head, whilk I dare to say 
will be as satisfactory. And I hope to pass a pleasant 
evening with your leddyship; and I hope to have 
mine revenges on Mr. Putler at paci:gammon, for the 
four pennies whilk he won, for he will pe surely at 
home soon, or else he will have a wet journey, seeing 
it is apout to pe a scud." 

Thus saying, with many scrapes and bows, and 
apologies for leaving them, which were readily re- 
ceived, and reiterated assurances of his speedy return, 
(of the sincerity whereof Mrs. Butler entertained no 
doubt, so long as her best greybeard of brandy was 
upon duty,) Duncan left the Manse, collected his fol- 
lowers, and began to scour the close and entangled 
wood which lay between the little glen and the Caird's 
Cove. David, who was a favoui'ite with the Captain, 
on account of his spirit and courage, took the oppor- 
tunity of escaping, to attend the investigations of that 
great man. 

VOL. IV. 16 



l'!r£ Tales of My Landlord. 



CHAPTER XIV. 



I did send for thee. 



That Talbot's name might be in thee reviv'd, 
When sapless age, and weak unable limbs. 
Should bring- thy father to his drooping chair. 
But, — O malignant and ill-boding stars ! — 

First Part of Henry the Sixth. 

DUNCAN and his party had not proceeded very 
far in the direction of the Caird's Cove, before they 
heard a shot, which was quickly followed by one or 
two others. ^' Some tamn'd villains among the roe- 
deer," said Duncan ; ** look sharp out, lads." 

The clash of swords was next heard, and Duncan 
and his myrmidons hastening to the spot, found But- 
ler and Sir George Staunton's servant in the hands 
of four ruffians. Sir George himself lay stretched on 
the ground, with his drawn sword in his hand. Dun- 
can, who was as brave as a lion, instantly fired his 
pistol at the leader of the band, unsheathed his sword, 
cried out to his men. Claymore / and run his weapon 
through the body of the fellow whom lie had previ- 
ously wounded, who was no other than Donacha dhu 
iia Dunaigh himself. The other banditti were spee- 
dily overpowered, excepting one young lad, who made 
wonderful resistance for his years, and was at length 
secured with difficulty. 

Butler, so soon as he was liberated from the ruf- 
fians, ran to raise Sir George Staunton, but life had 
wholly left him. 

" xV creat misfortune," said Duncan ; " I think it 
will pe pest that I go forward to intimate it to the 
coot leddy. — Tavie, my dear, you hae smelled pou- 
ther for the first time this day— ^-take my sword and 
hack off Donacha's head, whilk will pe coot practice 
for you against tlie time you may wish to do the 
^amc kindness to a living shentleman — or hould, as 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian*. 173 

your fatlier does not approve, you may leave U alone, 
as he will be a greater object of satisfaction to Leddy 
Staunton to see him entire ; and I hope she will do 
me the credit to pelieve that I can afenge ii shentle- 
man's plood fery speedily and well." 

Such w as the observation of a man too much ac- 
customed to the ancient state of manners in the High- 
lands, to look upon the issue of such a Skirmish, as 
any thing wortliy of wonder or emotion. 

We will not attempt to describe the very contrary 
effect which the unexpected disaster produced upon 
Lady Staunton, when the bloody corpse of her hus- 
band was brought to tlie house, Avhere she expected to 
meet him alive and well. All was forgotten, but that 
he was the lover of her youth ; and whatever were 
his faults to the w orld, that he had towards her exhi- 
bited only those that arose from the inequality of spi- 
rits and temper, incident to a situation of unparallel- 
ed difficulty. In the vivacity of her grief she gave 
way to all the natural irritability of her temper ; 
shriek followed shriek, and swoon succeeded to swoon. 
It required all Jeanie's watchful affection to prevent 
her from making known, in these paroxysms of af- 
fliction, much w hich it was of the highest importance 
that she should keep secret. 

At length silence and exhaustion succeeded to fren- 
zy, and Jcanie stole out to take counsel with her hus- 
band, and to exhort him to anticipate the Captain's 
interference, by taking possession, in Lady Staun- 
ton's name, of the private papers of her deceased hus- 
band. To the utter astonishment of Butler, she now, 
for the first time, explained the relation betwixt her- 
self and Lady Staunton, which authorized, nay, de- 
manded, that he should prevent any stranger from 
being unnecessarily made acquainted with her family 
affairs. It was in such a crisis that Jeanie's active 
and undaunted habits of virtuous exertion were most 
conspicuous. While the Captain's attention was still 
engaged by a prolonged refreshment, and a very te- 
dious examination, in Gaelic and English, of all the 



1 74 Tales of My Landlord, 

prisoners, and every other witness of the fatal trans- 
action, she had the body of her brother-in-law un- 
dressed and properly disposed.— -It then appeared, 
from the crucifix, the beads, and the shirt of hair 
wliich he wore next his person, that his sense of guilt 
liad induced him to receive the dogmata of a religion, 
which pretends, by the maceration of the body, to ex- 
piate the crimes of the soul. In the packet of papers, 
which the express had brouglit to Sir George Staun- 
ton from Edinburgh, and which Butler, authorized 
by his connexioji with the deceased, did not scruple 
to examine, he found new and astonishing intelligence, 
which gave Itim reason to thank God lie had taken 
that measure. 

Ratcliffe, to Miiom all sort of misdeeds and misdo- 
ers were familiar, instigated by tlie promised reward, 
soon found himself in a condition to trace the infant 
of these unhappy parents. The woman to whom Meg 
Murdockson had sold that most unfortunate child, had 
made it the companion of her wanderings and her 
beggary, until he \vas about seven or eight years old, 
when, as Ratcliffe learned from a companion of hers, 
then in the Correction-house of Edinburgh, she sold 
him in her turn to Donaclia dhu na Dunaigh, This 
man, to wliom no act of mischief was unknown, was 
occasionally an agent in a horiible trade then carried 
on betwixt Scotland and America, for supplying the 
plantations witli servants, by means of kidnappings as 
it was termed, both men and women, but especially 
children under age. Here Ratcliife lost siglit of the 
boy, but had no doubt that Donacha Dhu could give 
an account of him. The gentleman of the law so often 
mentioned, despatched therefore an express, with a 
letter to Sir George Staunton, and another covering 
a warrant for the apprehension of Donacha, with in- 
structions to the Captain of Knockdunder to exert 
his utmost energy for that purpose. 

Possessed of tliis information, and with a mind agi- 
tated by the most gloomy apprehensions, Butler now 
joined the Captain, and obtained from him with some 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 175 

difficulty a siglit of the examinations. These, with a 
few questions to the elder of the prisoners, soon con- 
firmed the most dreadful of Butler's anticipatioiis. 
We give tlie heads of the information without de- 
scending into minute details. 

Donacha Dhu had indeed purch^^sed Effie's unhap- 
py child, with the purpose of selling it to the Ameri- 
can traders, whom he had been in the habit of sup- 
plying with human flesh. But no opportunity occur- 
red for some time ; and the boy, who was known by 
the name of " The Whistler," made some impression 
on the heart and affections even of this rude savage, 
perhaps because he saw in him flashes of a spirit as 
fierce and vindictive as his own. When Donacha 
struck or threatened him — a very common occurrence 
— he did not answer with complaints, and entreaties, 
like other children, but with oaths and efforts at re- 
venge^ — he had all the wild merit, too, by which Wog- 
garwolfe's arrow-bearing page won the hard heart of 
his mastery 

Like a wild cub, rear'd at the ruffian's feet. 
He could say biting jests, bold ditties sing. 
And quaff his foaming bumper at the board. 
With all the mockery of a little man.* 

In short, as Donacha Dhu said, the Whistler was 
a born imp of Satan, and therefore he should never 
leave liim. Accordingly, from his eleventh year for- 
ward, he was one of the band, and often engaged in 
acts of violence. The last of these was more imme- 
diately occasioned by the researches which the Whist- 
ler's real father made, after liim whom he was taught 
to consider as such. Donaclia Dliu's fears had been 
for some time excited by the strength of tlie means 
which began now to be employed against persons of 
his description. He was sensible he existed only by 
the precarious indulgence of his namesake, Duncan 
of Knockdunder, who was used to boast that he could 

• Etliwald. 
16* 



176 Tales of My Landlord, 

put liim down or string Iiim up when lie had a miiuL 
He resolved to leave the kingdom by means of one ot* 
those sloops which were engaged in the traffic of his 
old kidnapping friends, and which was about to sail 
for America; but he was desirous first to strike a 
bold stroke. 

Tlie ruffian's cupidity was excited by the intelli- 
gence that a wealthy Englishman was coming to the 
Manse — lie had neither forgotten the Whistler's re- 
port of the gold he had seen in Lady Staunton's 
purse, nor his old vow of revenge against the minis- 
ter ; and, to bring the whole to a point, he conceived 
the hope of appropriating the money, which, accord- 
ing to the genei-al report of the count!-y, the minister 
was to bring from Edinbui-gh to pay for his new pur- 
chase. While he was considering how he might best 
accomplish his purpose, he received the intelligence 
from one quarter, that the vessel in which he propos- 
ed to sail, was to sail immediately from Greenock ; 
from another, that the minister and a rich English 
lord, with a great many tliousand pounds, were ex- 
pected the next evening at the Manse; and from a 
third, that he must consult his safety by leaving his 
ordinary haunts as soon as possible, for that the Cap- 
tain had ordered out a party to scour the glens for 
him at break of day. Donacha laid his plans with 
promptitude and decision. He embarked with the 
Whistler and two others of his gang, (whom, by the 
bye, he meant to sell to tlie kidnappers,) and set sail 
for the Caird's Cove. He intended to lurk till night- 
fall in the wood adjoining to this place, which he 
thought was too near the habitation of men to excite 
the suspicion of Duncan Knock, then break into But- 
ler's peaceful habitation, and flesh at once his appe- 
tite for plunder and revenge. When his villany was 
accomplished, his boat was to convey him to the ves- 
sel, which, according to previous agreement with the 
master, was instantly to set sail. 

This desperate desigj) would probably have suc- 
ceeded, but for the ruffians ]being discovered in their 



The Mart of Mid' Lothian, 177 

lurking place by Sir George Staunton and Butler, in 
their accitlental walk from the Caird's Cove towards 
the Manse. Finding himself detected, and at the 
same time observing that the servant carried a casket, 
or strong-box, Donacha conceived that both his prize 
and his victims were within his power, and attacked 
the travellers without hesitation. Shots were fired 
and swords drawn on both sides ; Sir George Staun- 
ton offered the bravest resistance, till he fell, as there 
was too much reason to believe, by the hand of a son, 
so long souglit, and now at length so unhappily dis- 
covered. 

While Butler was half-stunned with this intelli- 
gence, tlie hoarse voice of Knockdunder added to his 
consternation. 

*< I will take the liperty to take down tlie pell-ropes, 
Mr. Putler, as I must pe taking order to hang these 
idle people up to-morrow morning, to teach them more 
consideration in their doings in future." 

Butler entreated him to remember the act, abolish- 
ing the heritable jurisdictions, and that he ought to 
send them to Glasgow or Inverara, to be tried by the 
Circuit. Duncan scorned the proposal. 

" The Jurisdiction Act," he said, '* had nothing to 
do put with the rebels, and specially not with Argyle's 
country, and he would hang the men up, all three in 
one row, before coot Leddy Staunton's windows, 
wliich would pe a creat comfort to her in tlie moi'n- 
ing to see that the coot gentleman, her husband, had 
been suitably afenged." 

And tJie utmost length that Butler's most earnest 
entreaties could prevail, was, that he would resen^e 
** the twa pig carles for the circuit, but as for him 
they ca'd the Fustier, he should try how he cpuld 
fustle in a swinging tow, for it siddna be said that 
ashentleman, friend to the Duke, was killed in his 
country, and his people didna take at least twa lives 
for ane." 

Butler entreated him to spare the victim, for his 
souFs sake. But Knockdunder answered, <* that the 



178 Tales of My Landlord, 

soul of such a scum had been long the tefiPs proi>er- 
tj, and til at, Cot tanin ! he was determined to gif the 
tefil his due." 

All persuasion was in vain, and Duncan issued his 
mandate for execution on the succeeding morning*. 
The child of guilt and misery was separated from his 
companions, strongly pinioned, and committed to a 
separate room, of which the Captain kept tlie key. 

In the silence of the night, however, Mrs. Butler 
arose, resolved, if possible, to avert, at least to delay, 
the fate which lumg over her nephew, especially if, 
upon conversing with him, she should see any hope 
of his being brou.ght to better temper. She had a 
mastBr-^ey that opened every lock in the house ; and 
at midnight, when all was still, she stood before the 
eyes of the astonished young savage, as, hard-bound 
with cords, he lay, like a sheep designed for slaugh- 
ter, upon a quantity of the refuse of flax which filled 
a corner in the apartment. Amid features sun -burnt, 
tawny, grimed with dirt, and obscured by his shaggy 
hair of a rusted black colour, Jeanie tried in vain to 
trace the likeness of either of his very handsome 
parents. Yet how could she refuse compassion to a 
ci^eature so young and so wrenched, — so much more 
wretched than even he himself could be aware of, 
since the murder he had too probably committed with 
his own hand, but in winch he had at any rate par- 
ticipated, was in fact a parricide. She placed food 
on a table near him, raised him, and slacked the cords 
on his arms, so as to permit him to feed himself ? He 
stretched out his hands, still smeared with blood, per- 
haps that of his father, and he ate voraciously and in 
silence. 

**\Vhat is your first name?" said Jeanie, by way 
of opening the conversation. 

" The Whistler." . 

*« But your Christian name, by which you were bap- 
tized ?" 

" I never Was baptized that I know of — ^I have no 
other name than the Whistler." 



The Heart of Mid- Lothian, 179 

« Poor ini]ia])py abandoned lad !" said Jeanie ; 
<^ What would ye do if ye could escape from this place, 
and the death you arc to die to-morrow morning ?" 

"Join wi' Rob Roy, or wi' Serjeant More Cam- 
eron, (noted freebooters at that time,) and revenge 
Donacha's death on all and sundry." 

" ye unhappy boy," said Jeanie, " do ye ken 
what will come o' ye when ye die ?" 

** I shall neither feel cauld nor hunger more," said 
the youth doggedly. 

<< To let him be execute in this dreadful state of 
mind would be to destroy baith body and soul — and 
to let him gang I dare not — what will be done ? — 
But he is my sister's son — my own nephew — our flesh 
and blood — and his hands and feet are yerked as tight 
as cords can be drawn — Whistler, do the cords hurt 



% 



vou 



?'-♦ 



ii Very much." 

<«But, if I were to slacken them, you would harm 
me ?" 

"No, I would not; — you never harmed me or 
mine." 

" Tliere may be good in him yet," thought Jeanie 
— " I will try fair play witli liim." 

She cut his bonds — he stogd upright, looked round 
with a laugh of wild exultation, clapped his liands 
together, and sprung from the ground, as if in trans- 
port on finding himself at liberty. He looked so 
wild, that Jeanie trembled at what slie had done. 

" Let me out," said the young savage. 

*^ I wunna, unless you promise" 

" Tlien I'll make.you glad to let us both out." 

He seized the lighted candle and threw it among 
the flax, which was instantly in a flame. Jeanie 
screamed, and ran out of the room ; the prisoner rush- 
ed past her, threw open a window in the passage, 
jumped into the garden, sprung over its enclosure, 
bounded through the woods like a deer, and gained 
the sea-,shore. Meantime, the fire was extinguished, 
but the prisoner was sought in vain. As Jeanie kept 



180 Tales of My Landlord. 

her own secret, the share she had in his escape was 
not discovered ; hut they learned his fate some time 
afterwards— it was as wild as his life had hitherto 
been. 

The anxious inquiries of Butler at length learned 
that the youth had gained the ship in which his mas- 
ter, Donacha, had designed to embark. But the 
avaricious shipmaster, inured by his evil trade to 
every species of treachery, and disappointed of the 
rich booty which Donacha had proposed to bring 
aboard, secured tlie person of the fugitive, and hav- 
ing transported him to America, sold him as a slave, 
or indented sei'vant, to a Virginian planter, far up 
the country. Wlien tliese tidings reached Butler, he 
sent over to America a sufficient sum to redeem tlie 
lad from slavery, Avith instructions that measures 
should be taken for improving liis mind, restraining 
his evil propensities, and encouraging w liatever good 
might appear in his character. But this aid came 
too late. The young man had headed a conspiracy 
in which his inhuman master was put to death, and 
had then fled to the next tribe of wild Indians. He 
was never more heard of; and it may therefore be 
presumed that he lived and died after the manner of 
that savage people, with whom his previous habits 
had well fitted him to associate. 

All hopes of the young man's reformation being 
now ended, Mr and Mrs Butler thought it could sein^e 
no purpose to explain to Lady Staunton a history so 
full of horror. She remained their guest more than 
a year, during the greater part of which period her 
,^rief was excessive. In tlie latter months, it assum- 
ed tlie appearance of listlessness and low spirits, 
which the monotony of her sister's quiet establish- 
ment afforded no means of dissipating. Effie, from 
her earliest youth, was never formed for a quiet low 
content. Far different from her sister, she required 
the dissipation of society to divert her sorrow, or 
enhance her joy. She left the seclusion of Knock- 
tarlitie with tears of sincere affection, and after heap* 



The Heart of Mid-Lothian. 181 

iiig; its inmates with all she could think of that might 
be valuable in their eyes. But she did leave it, and 
when the anguish of the parting was over, her dej)ar- 
ture was a relief to both sisters. 

The family at the Manse of Knocktarlitie, in their 
own quiet happiness, heard of the well-dowered and 
beautiful Lady Staunton resuming her place in the 
fashionable world. They learned it by more substan- 
tial proofs ; for David received a commission, and as 
the military spirit of Bible Butlor seemed to have re- 
vived in him, his good behaviour qualified the envy of 
five hundred young highland cadets, " come of good 
houses," who were astonished at the rapidity of his 
promotion. Reuben followed the law, and rose more 
slowly, yet surely. Euphemia Butler, whose fortune, 
augmented by her aunt's generosity, and added to 
her own beauty, rendered her no small prize, mar- 
ried a Highland laird, who never asked the name of 
her grandfather, and was loaded on the occasion with 
presents from Lady Staunton, which made her the 
envy of all the beauties in Dumbarton and Argyle- 
shires. 

After blazing nearly ten years in the fashionable 
world, and hiding, like many of her compeers, an 
aching heart with a gay demeanour ; — after declining 
repeated offers of the most respectable kind for a se- 
cond matrimonial engagement. Lady Staunton betray- 
ed the inward wound by retiiing to the continent, and 
taking up her abode in the convent where she had re- 
ceived her education. She never took the veil, but 
lived and died in severe seclusion, and in the prac- 
tice of the Roman Catholic religion, in all its formal 
observances, vigils, and austerities. 

Jeanie had so much of her father's spirit as to sor- 
row bitterly for this apostacy, and Butler joined in 
her regret. ** Yet any religion, however imperfect," 
he said, " was better than cold scepticism, or the hur- 
rying din of dissipation, which fills the ears of world- 
lings^ until they care for none of these things." 



182 Tales of My Landlord, 

Meanwhile, happy in each other, in the prosperity 
of their family, and the love and honour of all who 
knew them, this simple pair lived beloved, and died 
lamented. 



Reader — This tale will not be told in vain, if it 
shall be found to illustrate the great truth, that guilt, 
though it may attain temporal splendour, can never 
confer real happiness ; that the evil consequences of 
our crimes long survive their commission, and, like 
the ghosts of the murdered, for ever haunt the steps 
of the malefactor ; and that the paths of virtue, though 
seldom those of worldly greatness, are always those 
of pleasantness and peace. 



VEnvoy by Jedediah Cleishbotham. 

Thus concludeth the Tale of ^* The Heart of 
Mid-Lothian," whicli hath filled more pages than 
I opined. The Heart of Mid-Lotliian is now no 
more, or rather it is transferred to the extreme side 
of the city, even as the Sieur JeanBaptiste Poquelin 
hath it, in his pleasant comedy called Le Medecin. 
Malgre lui, where the simulated doctor wittily repli- 
cth to a charge, that he had placed the heart on the 
right side, instead of the left, *' Cela etoit autrefois 
ainsif mais nous avous change tout cela.^^ Of which 
witty speech, if any reader shall demand the purport, 
I have only to respond, that I teach the French as 
well as the Classical tongues, at the easy rate of five 
shillings per quarter, as my advertisements arc pe- 
riodically making known to the public. 

e^d of volume fourth. 



LBO'K 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: May 2009 

PreservationTechnologies 

A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 



